


Figure 8

by paralleltonone



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Depression, Drug Abuse, Multi, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-11-03
Updated: 2013-02-08
Packaged: 2017-11-17 16:39:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 26,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/553673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paralleltonone/pseuds/paralleltonone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Forever and a day. At least, that was what Zayn said, and Harry believed every word of it because with Zayn, everything was all right. With Zayn, everything was perfect.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. So Lovers Hold On to Everything

**Author's Note:**

> **TRIGGER WARNING!** This story will contain depictions of self-harm and drug abuse. If any of these things are triggering for you, please don't go any further.

          Louis can’t take his eyes off the flickering light above his head. He’s sure it will go out any second and so will the device that is well overdue for a replacement. It’s been nearly an hour since he’s gotten that call from Harry, that call that pulled him from his slumber in his flat to the rundown warehouse that Harry had made his home, home with Zayn. A jolt that nearly sends Louis to the floor signals his arrival at his destination before he slides open and they creak, revealing a grungy hallway that was no more lit than that freight elevator had been.

          The hallway is silent, the walk to the door at the end of the hall seems to take forever, Louis has to continuously remind himself that he isn’t a character in a horror movie heading towards sudden death, and on repeat in his head is the sound of Harry’s broken voice.

_“Louis, come here…quick. I need you.”_

          It’s not the first time Louis has run to Harry’s aid because Harry called for him to, but this time is different. Louis can just _feel_ it. He doesn’t know why, but he knows it isn’t because of the eviction notice still taped to the front door. He knows it isn’t because the electricity is out as he discovers upon walking into the studio flat because it’s been out before. He knows it isn’t because the refrigerator and cabinets are bare, and he thinks it’s a shame that he doesn’t even have to check them to know that. He knows it isn’t because the apartment reeks and can use a couple of scrub downs or three because it always does. But the silence; it’s worse than in the hallway. The silence is Louis’ answer as to why.

          Harry’s apparent absence sends chills down Louis’ spine, but Louis knows where he is, and fear overtakes him as his minds goes to the worst place with thoughts of what he’ll find behind that bathroom door. Still, he steps toward it slowly with a light knock.

“Harry,” he calls. “It’s me. I’m going to come in, if that’s all right.”

          Of all the thoughts that ran through Louis’ head as he took step after step to that door, what he found never crossed his mind. There, on the once white tiled floor that was in need of even more maintenance than the elevator outside, is Harry. There, with his back pressed against the porcelain of the tub, is Harry. There, with an unusually pale and gaunt Zayn draped across his lap, is Harry.

Looking to Louis with tears building in his eyes, Harry whispers, “He won’t wake up, Lou.”

          Harry looks wrecked; he looks like he hasn’t slept or eaten or moved in days, and Louis fears that he hasn’t, but he hopes to the heavens above that his worries are futile.

“Harry, come on,” Louis tries to tug him away, but the boy won’t budge.

“Not until Zayn wakes up,” Harry sobs. “I can’t make him get up.”

“Haz, come on, please…”

          Louis knows Harry needs to hear it to get it, needs to have someone confirm it to him so he’ll snap out of it and understand, but Louis doesn’t want to be the one to tell him even if he has no choice. With trembling hands and legs, Louis inches closer to Harry and his boyfriend’s lifeless body, squatting down until he’s face-to-face with the younger man and blue lock on green.

“Zayn-Zayn isn’t going to wake up, babe,” Louis says. “He’s dead.”

“No,” Harry shakes his head. “He’s not dead. I just need to wake him and then we can go over to Liam’s on Tuesday to get the money he promised Zayn he could borrow so we can pay the landlord and we’re going to shopping for food with what’s left-”

          It’s Thursday and Louis can feel his heart pounding as a saddening realization washes over him, “Harry, when did Zayn say he was going to get the money from Liam?”

“This morning.”

“And what’s today, Harry?”

“It’s Monday,” Harry whispers, his attention seemingly being held by the floor beneath him rather than anything else around. “Just like the day we met…”

__________________________________________________________

          Harry wasn't sure if it was the spilled coffee all over his shirt that’d forced him to change, the missed train that had him late for class, the forgotten Economics notebook he'd left on his desk or a combination of all three that clued him into the day of the week. Only on this day. Only on a Monday would everything that could possibly go wrong, go wrong. By the time lunch came around, Harry was already done with the day. He just wanted to crawl into that full-size warmth he called his bed, pull his comforter over his head and sleep until Tuesday. He contemplated doing just that when it seemed lunch wouldn't be an option for him that day either.

“Oh, come on...” Harry groaned, staring through the Plexiglas at the bag of Tangy Doritos clamped on the silver hook. “Unbelievable!”

          It wasn't going to make a difference and Harry knew that, but still, there he was banging against the clear covering and shaking the machine with as much strength as he could muster.

“You're never going to get it out that way,” came a voice from behind him that Harry didn't bother turning to look at.

“Well, me and this machine will go to toe-to-toe until I do because that was my last pound.”

“Here, let me help.”

          Harry backed away from the machine and was finally able to get a glimpse at the dark haired man with the camera hung against his side who’d spoken to him. Harry watched, waiting to see exactly what kind of magic he’d work to get the snack out, brows furrowing when he did nothing more than place slender honey-toned fingers around the cord in the wall and unplug the machine.

“There,” he looked up at Harry with a smile, hazel eyes staring into Harry’s as he murmured, “Now, you can let me buy you lunch.”

“What? I- you want to buy me lunch? You don’t even know my name,” Harry laughed sardonically.

“How do you know I don’t know your name?”

“Because I didn’t give it. Thanks for the lunch offer, but I think I’ll just wait until later.”

          Grabbing up his backpack from the floor, Harry headed towards the exit before the boy called out to him.

“Fine. See you around, Kyle!”

“My name’s Harry.”

          Harry heard a click and whir as he turned to look at the other man with brows furrowed in confusion only to cover his mouth once he’d realized he’d been played as a smile spread across his face, letting his camera fall to his side again.

“So, Harry, how about that lunch, yeah?”

“I don’t usually hang out with complete strangers, sorry.”

          The other man still looked completely amused despite Harry turning him down at every chance he got, and it seemed his only response that time was to extend a hand to Harry, finally introducing himself.

“I’m Zayn. Now we’re not strangers, and you don’t have to be hungry today.”

          Chicken McNuggets never tasted as good as they did that day, but he’d be damned if he ever tell Zayn that.

__________________________________________________________

“I just think you work too hard, and don’t allow yourself to relax enough. You should really come to the party, Haz. I'd hate to see have another breakdown again.”

“It wasn't a breakdown, and Niall, I’ve got two papers due next week, and I haven’t even started one of them. I have an exam for my Principles of Marketing class that I haven’t studied for, and I’m scheduled to work four days at the shop next week. I don’t have time for a party.”

“Seriously, Harry, if you haven’t done all of that and you haven’t been out with us, what the hell have you been doing with your time?”

          Harry turned to Louis with a glare, opening his mouth to answer before he was cut off.

“Hey, Harry!”

          Harry knew that voice yelling across the quad at him, and that was why he started moving down that cement path as fast as his feet could take him, not bothering to turn and make eye contact with the man on the other side.

“Let’s go,” he mumbled to Louis and Niall.

“Harry, do you know that guy?” Niall asked, walking along with the other two men.

“No, let’s go.”

          Despite Harry’s obvious lie as he continued walking, there was the yell of his name a second time from someone who was obviously quite familiar with him.

“Harry!”

“Oh!” Louis exclaimed, stopping and getting Harry’s attention as both he and Niall stopped as well. “That’s why you haven’t gotten anything accomplished. You’re seeing someone.”

“I am not seeing anyone. He’s just a guy who bought me lunch.”

“He bought you lunch and you’re running from him?” Niall laughed. “If someone bought me lunch, I’d be all over them. What is wrong with you, Harry?”

“So, just because I’m not interested in someone that means there’s something wrong with me?”

          Zayn brought his bike to a quick halt once he’d caught up to Harry and his friends and he had to catch himself from nearly falling over at the abruptness, his backpack and camera hanging at his side.

“Jeez, I thought you’d never stop walking.”

“I didn’t plan to. You’re not supposed to ride a bike on the quad, you know.”

“Harry!” Niall admonished, glancing at the curly-haired man next to him before he looked back to Zayn. “Hi, there. I’m Niall.”

          Niall pushed his hand out to Zayn who slung his backpack back over his shoulder and slid his hand into Niall’s in return.

“I’m Zayn,” he introduced then turned to Louis to shake his hand as well, but received hesitance and a stare before the gesture was met.

“Louis.”

“Photography?” Niall asked, motioning to the camera Zayn held.

Looking down, Zayn chuckled with a nod, “And Film Studies. Biology?”

“Biochemistry, actually. How’d you figure that?” Niall’s brows furrowed.

Zayn shrugged, “Stab in the dark; you just look like a science geek.”

“Well then,” Harry spoke up. “It was nice getting all acquainted, wasn’t it? Good seeing you, Zayn.”

          Harry’s move to leave was intercepted when Zayn’s hand fell upon Harry’s arm, and Harry found himself fighting an internal struggle between pushing it away and reaching out to link his fingers in Zayn’s.

“Wait. I just wanted to give you this,” Zayn pulled a flyer from his backpack and handed it to Harry. “Sorry it’s so short notice, but if you don’t come, it’s whatever. I have something showing, so…yeah.”

“Thanks,” Harry mumbled, glancing at the neon-colored sheet of paper, but not enough to read it.

“Yeah. So…I’ll see you around. It was nice meeting you, Niall, and you too, Louis.”

          With that, Zayn made his departure, going against university rules again and peddling his 7-speed down the pavement. Harry’s focus on Zayn until he was long gone was so distracting that he didn’t notice Niall had tugged the flyer from his fingers.

“Harry, you should go to this.”

Looking to Niall, Louis finally spoke up again, “Horan, what is your obsession with making Harry go places? He’s busy.” Snatching the paper, Louis balled it up and tossed it into a nearby bin as he muttered, “Anything he’s doing is probably way out of Harry’s scene, anyway.”

          Louis always took the last word when it came to Harry, and maybe he made decisions a hell of a lot for him, but Harry didn’t fight it because Louis seemed to know best. Even if Niall didn’t think so. Sometimes, though, Harry thought Niall was right. A lot of the time he thought Niall was right, but he wasn’t going to tell Louis that.

          It couldn’t have been three minutes before Harry’s phone was chiming with an alert to a text, and there on the screen was information on the Photography Club’s show that Friday night.

_30 mins won’t kill u mate._

          Maybe Niall was right.

__________________________________________________________

          Harry wasn’t sure how right Niall was when he stepped into that auditorium, but he was there nonetheless. With the four pounds Niall hadn’t mentioned that he’d had to give up at the door, he was sure he’d be there for more than half an hour just to get his money’s worth. It wasn’t much, but it was more than Harry had planned on dishing out. Eyeing a spot in the middle section of the crowded auditorium, he could barely make it to his seat before the photography department’s head was stepping onto the stage in front of the projection screen, and he gave rundown of the night’s events, it was clear Harry needed more than that thirty minutes.

          Zayn was nearly last and Harry wasn’t sure what to expect. On their trip to McDonald’s, he couldn’t have been bothered to listen to much of what Zayn said about his major nor could he be bothered to see any of the pictures Zayn had taken or that he held on his camera. If he had, though, Harry would have known of Zayn’s talent. He would have even understood why Zayn had invited him.

Harry let his eyes scan across the white cursive words dashing out onto the black background: “This is a story of falling in love for the first time...”

          Images of things Harry should have noticed being ingrained to picture form, images that seemingly danced to the rhythm Zayn set behind them: _This is why we do it, this is worth the pain, this is why we bow down and get back up again, this is where the heart lies, this is from above. Love is this, this is love…_ , images of furrowed brows with a glare following a mistaken name as an introduction, that tangy treat that didn’t become Harry’s lunch, red and yellow containers, burgers and chicken, long fingers and large hands sliding through dark curls, a goodbye in the form of a plaid-shirted back. Images that hit Harry in a place he’d never been hit before.

          He stuck around long after the show was over and cleanup was in progress until Zayn noticed him still there, still in the seat he’d sat in upon arrival. Hopping down from the stage, Zayn stepped into the pit then trudged up the stairs to stand in the aisle near Harry’s seat.

“Let me guess, you just got here.”

“No,” Harry still didn’t look at Zayn, eyes focused on the equipment being taken down on the stage.

“Did you see my presentation?”

“Yes.”

“Are you pissed off?”

“Yes.”

Sighing, Zayn moved to sit down next to him, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I was using your pictures. I just-”

          And finally, Harry looked at Zayn. Just barely. Turning in his seat, he cupped Zayn’s face with his hands, turning his head before his lips fell upon Zayn’s. It was a kiss that was probably too much for a first, too full of confidence and passion and emotions that came with things they hadn’t even experienced yet in the days they’d known one another. _Yet_.

          Yet because Harry wanted those things. He wanted those emotions to manifest in his heart. He wanted Zayn. Zayn, with his stupid jokes and his ridiculous rule-breaking and his browned skin inked in things only Zayn understood and his love-at-first-sight heart eyes. Harry wanted him, all of him, and he wanted Zayn to have all of him in return.

Pulling back, Harry took a breath as he whispered, “The Script is actually one of my favorite bands.”

“And so is Coldplay,” Zayn smiled. “Surprise, surprise. I actually listened when you talked.”

          Harry couldn’t stop the smile that spread from ear-to-ear, bringing out dimples that Zayn hadn’t even seen before that night because they didn’t appear with a frown. His hands fell to the back of Zayn’s neck where he played with the soft dark hairs at the bottom of his hairline, and he leaned in again for another kiss of many to come that Harry almost let himself miss out on.

          But Niall said to go and Niall was right. He was always right.

__________________________________________________________

“…and after, we got ice cream and went to the top of Primrose to just look at the city. He’s kind of, I don’t know, different. I really like him, though.” Harry spoke as he sat in the dining hall with Niall and Louis.

“He sounds like a great guy, Haz. I’m happy for you. I wish I could find someone to take me on the kinds of dates you talk about,” Niall earned a laugh from Harry at that comment.

“Well, Niall, I hope you find some lucky lady willing to treat you like that.”

          The two men looked in Louis’ direction when he scoffed as he broke off a piece of his roll and popped it into his mouth.

“It sounds like a lot to go through just to get laid at the end of the night.”

“Lou, what’s your problem?”

“I’m just saying, Niall. Those over-the-top displays are a bit much just for a blow job.”

          It’d been weeks of Louis’ input about his and Zayn’s growing relationship coming in the worst way and Harry was tired of it. He was happy, and he couldn’t understand why Louis couldn’t see that and be happy for him the way any friend should be.

“Stop,” Harry commanded. “Just stop, Lou. I don’t get what you’re so pissed about. Are you jealous? Because I finally found somebody who likes me just as much as I like them? That I’ve finally done what you’ve done several times over and moved on? Get over your fucking self, Louis. You didn’t want me because you wanted your space, remember? Zayn’s a good guy and he’s good to me and hating him isn’t going to make me stop seeing him.”

          Harry stood from the table with his backpack and tray.

“Harry, what are you doing? You have a whole slice of pizza left.” Niall snatched the tray back, but that didn’t stop Harry from turning and walking from the table.

“Oh, and Louis!” he yelled across the dining hall, getting Louis’ attention and the attention of everyone else within earshot. “We haven’t fucked yet, but I look forward to it because even a Ken doll would be better than you!”

          A humiliated Louis, dropped jaws and giggles directed in Louis’ general direction was the way Harry left the dining hall. Even Niall tried to hide his amusement, but Louis could see it hidden behind the glass of Pepsi he was pretending to drink.

“It’s not funny, Niall,” Louis said.

“Oh, but it is.”

“That’s the last time I buy him lunch.”

__________________________________________________________

          But Harry didn’t need Louis to buy him lunch or anything at all. He didn’t need Louis for anything. Zayn took care of him. No more Cheetos and Sprite substituting as a meal, no more nights spent in with his head in a book he wasn’t interested in, no more pills popped to be the reason for a smile to his face, no more loneliness. He had Zayn and Zayn made everything all right. A stranger only a month before, Zayn was there in his life now and Zayn made everything that was wrong in Harry’s life perfect.

“You're the most beautiful thing I have ever seen,” Zayn murmured.

          Chest to chest, skin upon skin, basking in a moment that they’d never have for the first time again. Stretching his arm out, Zayn let his hand find Harry's, hazel still set on green as his slender fingers formed a link with the other man's.

“I think you’ve got me beat by a longshot.”

Zayn laughed, shaking his head, “That’s bullshit and you know it.”

“No, really! I mean it.” Harry laughed as he sat up and reached his hand out to run it across Zayn’s cheek, his expression softening when he whispered, “I love you.”

“I knew I loved you the first time I saw you,” Zayn smiled. “And I'm going to keep you forever and never let you go. I'm yours for eternity and beyond, forever and a day.”

          Forever and a day. At least, that was what Zayn said. And Harry believed every word of it because with Zayn, everything was all right. With Zayn, everything was perfect.

__________________________________________________________

          The building hadn’t been repaired or cared for in years; that was obvious before they’d even stepped inside. He could only imagine what the inside probably looked like. But yet, this was what Zayn called home as Harry was finding out for the first time in the two and a half months since they’d met, and Harry felt a painful pull in his chest at the thought because this place didn’t seem homey enough even for a family of rats.

“Come on, Har,” Zayn urged when Harry hesitated to step into the elevator.

“Are there stairs? I mean, we could take the stairs.”

“It’s five flights.”

“A little exercise never hurt anyone.”

          Zayn didn’t want to. That was evident by the way he stared at Harry as if waiting on him to change his mind. Still, he sighed and slid the freight elevator closed before taking Harry’s hand and leading him down a narrow hallway to a staircase that seemed to be functioning with one light. Tightening his grip on Zayn’s hand, Harry followed him upstairs. One flight, two, all the way to five where Zayn seemed pretty worn out as they reached the top, and where Harry found that the outside of this place was better than the inside could ever be.

          Outside the apartment at the end of the hall stood a tall, brown-haired man, lazily dragging on his cigarette. Glancing up from the floor, his annoyance was evident all over his face when he spotted Zayn. But Zayn moved passed him, letting Harry’s hand go as he fished through his pockets for his key.

“About fucking time, where have you been?”

“Waiting for Harry to get out of class, chill out,” Zayn replied to him.

          Shoving his key into hole, Zayn turned and banged against the door before the other man nudged him aside and pushed against the wide door with an ease as if he did this all the time, sending it open with a loud pop and a thud.

“You really need to get this door fixed, Zayn,” he said as he let Zayn and Harry walk in ahead of him, following along only to stop and motion to the curly-haired stranger trailing behind Zayn. “Who is this?”

Tossing his keys to the table and pulling off his leather jacket, Zayn looked at the two men, “Haz, that’s Liam. Liam, this is Harry.” Then Zayn went back to fishing through his pockets, pulling out a wad of money and handing it to the other man. “It’s short, like, ten. Sorry.”

“Oh,” Liam counted through it as he scoffed then looked to Harry. “So, you’re the reason he’s been coming up short so often lately.”

          Then Harry learned what Zayn never said to him. He learned why Zayn never seemed to be short funds, why he never went to work, that Liam wasn’t just his best friend and was nothing he’d expected. As he watched Zayn settle to the floor behind the glass table in the open room, take the bag Liam handed over to him when he plopped down to the sofa and clear off the space on the table in front of him, Harry learned everything else Zayn never told him.

“Har, why are you just standing there? Come here, baby.”

          And, like so many other times before that day, Harry did as Zayn told him to because Zayn made everything all right, and Zayn was perfect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was written by [paralleltonone](http://archiveofourown.org/users/paralleltonone/profile) | [Tumblr](http://livewhilewereforeveryoung.tumblr.com/)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **TRIGGER WARNING:** This story will contain depictions of self-harm and drug abuse. If any of these things are triggering for you, please don't go any further

Harry’s head was pounding when he woke up. Gone was the flighty haze that had him reeling before he felt the world tilt. Gone was the sudden sensation of soaring through the air. Gone, the numbing buzz that prickled underneath his skin and made him feel the world melt away as he rose, strong and solid. In the blink of an eye, he’d crumble back down, the sudden press of raw Earth under the heels of his feet, pushing through him and dragging him up, up, up as it dropped and rooted him to the ground. Gone was the adrenaline that coursed through his veins and set every nerve alight, making stars explode behind his eyes at every touch, every kiss, every nip of Zayn’s teeth. The sensations were so vivid that Harry gasped at the overwhelming arousal that made goosebumps rise on his skin, made his hair stand on end and made him yearn for Zayn’s touch over and over and over. It was all gone and it felt like a distant dream, felt like forever dissipating in the flutter of weary eyelashes.

He woke up to the sound of his phone buzzing on the hollow, wooden floor of Zayn’s apartment. He squinted at the ceiling and had to shield his eyes, the sunlight that streamed in through the cracks of the ceiling assaulting his irises and making the pulse in his temples more insistent.

Harry disentangled himself from Zayn, a sweaty arm having been pressed against the skin of his torso, and reached over to find his phone buried under the pile of clothes that Harry couldn’t remember leaving there. 

Eighteen missed calls and eight text messages, all from both Louis and Niall.

“Fuck,” Harry swore.

A shudder rolled through his body when Zayn’s cold fingertip traced the length of his spine. “Morning, baby,” he murmured when Harry turned to meet his bloodshot eyes. Harry expected Zayn to be just as run down as he was, to feel just as weird, but Zayn smiled back at him, lazy and languid, before tugging him down by the back of the neck for a kiss. 

Almost like whatever they snorted last night was still pumping through their systems hard and fast, Harry could feel his skin begin to crawl with the need for Zayn. Zayn nipped at his lip playfully and Harry smiled into his mouth, straddling Zayn as the remnants of last night’s high crept back in. Harry groaned into Zayn’s mouth when Zayn gripped Harry’s waist, pressing his fingers into Harry’s hip.

But then his phone began to buzz again and Harry accidentally bit Zayn’s lower lip. “Sorry,” he mumbled but Zayn just ruffled his hair and laid back down, one arm behind his head as he watched Harry pick up his phone.

Harry noticed Louis’ name on the caller ID and sighed, picking it up. “What?” he answered.

 _“Where the fuck are you?”_ is what Louis greeted him with, his voice harsh and laced with an edge of panic.

Harry raised an eyebrow, too aware of Zayn’s fingers pressing absently into the skin of his lower back. “Why the hell do you care?”

_“Harry, you asked Niall to pick you up after your midterm. He’s been waiting for over an hour and he’s freaking out because you’re not picking up.”_

Harry felt his heart drop into his stomach as bile rose in his throat. He stayed silent, willing this all to be some sort of sick nightmare, a hallucination at the very least, but when he pulled his phone back to check the date, he knew this was anything but.

Louis must’ve registered what had happened from Harry’s silence because he said, his voice becoming softer, almost sympathetic, _“Harry, did you forget?”_

Harry hung up, unable to continue the conversation and when he dropped his phone onto the floor, Zayn sat up. “Everything alright, babe?”

But the buzz was completely gone then, and Harry could barely remember what it felt like as his anxiety seeped back in. Harry got to his feet and ran to the bathroom, emptying the contents of his stomach into the bowl. His head reeled and the exhilaration of the night before disappeared with whatever he’d scarfed down during the high. 

Zayn was there, then, at his side, kneeling by him and threading his fingers through his hair. “Shit, babe. You okay?” 

But Harry shook his head, spitting into the bowl before he looked up at Zayn. His hands were shaking as he gripped the seat, his face ghostly white as he whispered, “I fucked up. I fucking forgot and now it’s...”

Zayn raised an eyebrow and then asked, “Forgot what? Wait, is this about school?”

Harry nodded, still trembling. “I had a midterm today and I'm going to fail -- I worked so hard in this class, so fucking hard and now I've screwed it all up.”

Zayn stared at him for a moment before huffing out a laugh. “Is that it?” he asked. “You’re freaking out because you missed your exam?” 

Harry watched him, unable to believe that Zayn was laughing at him, but then Zayn brushed Harry’s fringe out of his eyes, earnest and loving and he said, “Babe, that’s _nothing._ You can re-sit, I can get you a fake medical certificate, don’t even worry about it.” Harry stared at him, unsure, but then Zayn pecked him on the cheek and advised, sounding wise beyond his years, “Don’t let them fuck you over or make you freak out like this. It’s not worth it. You had a good time last night, right?”

Harry nodded wearily, because of what he could remember, it was amazing. He was terrified at first, but he trusted Zayn. So easily, so quickly, and it ended up being worth it.

“It was great, right? You felt good? You had a good time with me, yeah?”

Harry nodded again, searching Zayn’s eyes and finding nothing but determination and comfort -- something he knew he wouldn't find in any of his classmates eyes when he faced them the next time he did.

“Then don’t let them take that away from you.” Zayn leaned forward and pressed his lips into Harry’s temple, kissing him gently there. Harry could feel his heartbeat begin to calm and when Zayn murmured, “Don’t let them take you away from me,” he hadn't thought anything of it.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Zayn ducked out to get them some late breakfast and told Harry to stay put, wanting him off his feet and resting because the first hit always had unexpected side effects. Harry didn’t think how he was feeling had anything to do with what they had taken the night before because he’d felt _this_ several times before. The agonising anxiety that crept up the back of his throat and made him fret and lose sleep and made his body refuse any sort of food or water. He was used to this -- this was normal, and he should’ve figured that not taking his meds would eventually result in this. He hadn’t even thought of the fact that it was _just_ a midterm and not an end-of-year _and_ the fact that he could re-sit using a medical certificate or just put in for a late deferral. None of these things had crossed his mind when Louis called, and he had jumped into overdrive immediately, convincing himself that his entire academic career was over.

But then Zayn was there, and he had his soothing words and his gentle hands, and he talked Harry off the ledge with a voice like honey that made Harry want to melt into him. Harry couldn’t remember when Louis had managed to calm him down after he’d zoned into a panic attack.

He sat there, waiting, and convinced himself that everything was okay, because in a twisted way that he’d never managed to look at it before, it was. And when Zayn came back, brown paper bag with breakfast in hand and he kissed him on the lips, he figured that everything was definitely okay as long as he had this.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Harry was walking out of class and looking at his phone, waiting for Zayn to call to let him know where he was so they could meet up, when he bumped into Niall.

“Harry, where’ve you been, mate?!” Niall exclaimed, teetering between surprised and completely shocked. 

Harry was surprised to find him without Louis, but sure enough, a couple of moments later Louis appeared. He’d had a smile on his face until he’d seen Harry.

“I’ve been looking all over for you,” Niall said. “You scared the crap out of me that day, I'm not gonna lie.”

“Yeah, sorry about that, Nialler,” Harry replied. “Just got caught up.” Harry was trying really hard to ignore Louis’ whose eyes were trained on him, glowering.

“Been busy, then?” Louis asked. “Skipping classes, exams...the usual?”

Harry narrowed his eyes and tried to ignore the way that it still brought up the sickening bile in his throat. Tried to remember Zayn’s words about how it’s not a big deal, how it _shouldn't_ be a big deal. “None of your business, really.”

Niall glared at Louis before turning back to Harry, always determined to be the peacemaker. “What are you doing tonight, mate? Me and Lou were gonna go and check out that pub crawl that’s happening down near the tav later on. It’s supposed to be wicked after ten. Wanna join?”

Harry shook his head. “Nah, I'm good. I'm hanging out with Zayn.”

“Zayn,” Louis said. “Of course.”

“Yes, _Zayn,_ ” Harry insisted. “What’s it to you? Why are you being such a dick?”

Niall was ready to intervene and stop them but then his watch beeped and he realised that he was late to class. “Shit, guys, I gotta go, but please -- relax, yeah?” 

He hurried off, leaving the two together.

Harry shook his head and turned to leave but Louis was quick on his heels, following. “What have you been doing, really?” Louis asked as they weaved in between the people that were all making their way to different parts of campus, uninterested in their interaction.

“Again, it’s none of your damn business.”

“Have you been taking your pills?” Louis asked, and that made Harry stop.

He rounded on Louis. “Why the _fuck_ do you care?!” he hissed.

“Does he even know about them? How you _need_ to take them? Or has he been supplying you with a nice substitute?” Louis growled. Harry glared at him, his face going pale. He hadn't seen Louis in a few weeks, since the last time they talked, so he wasn't surprised that Louis was being as brutal about this as he was, but it didn't make him appreciate his presence all that much, either. “Don’t think I didn't fucking notice. Niall might be oblivious but I’m not. Your eyes are red as fuck and you, skipping an exam?” Louis grabbed Harry’s wrist. “What sort of shit are you doing, Harry?” 

“There something wrong here?” came Zayn’s voice, forcing the two to step apart. Zayn came by Harry’s side and laced their fingers. He searched Harry’s eyes but Harry avoided them. “You okay?” he asked.

“I'm fine,” Harry muttered. “Louis was just...telling me about the pub crawl tonight but I told him we couldn't make it.”

“That so?” Zayn asked, tightening his grip on Harry’s fingers. “That down by the tav where the business building is?”

Louis’ eyebrows were furrowed and Harry could see his jaw clench, but all he did was give a curt nod.

“Yeah, we might drop down,” Zayn said easily, but Harry could hear the shift in Zayn’s tone. Almost like it was laced with venom. He then slipped his arm around Harry’s waist and tugged him into his side. “If we get a chance, yeah, babe?” 

Harry exhaled sharply, glaring at Louis but he nodded in response. “Yeah, maybe.”

“We gotta get to Liam’s first, though, you know...wanna get the party started early.”

Harry could practically feel Louis’ fury from where he stood and the kick he got out of it was unbelievable. “Sounds like a blast. Could do with a pick-me-up.”

Zayn grinned at him, brown eyes beautiful and sparkling and that was enough to make Harry smile back and mean it. 

“I’ll see you around, Harry,” Louis said to Harry, and if Harry knew him at all, he knew that was a promise. Louis wasn't done here.

Once Louis was gone Zayn laughed into Harry’s neck before pulling back and kissing him. “What the hell was that about?”

Harry sighed and shook his head. “Nothing, he was just being a dick.”

“Hey.” Zayn tilted Harry’s chin up so he would look at him. “Everything’s alright, yeah? Come on, forget about him. The night is ours and tonight, it’s all about making you feel good.”

Harry stared at him for a moment but Zayn was watching him expectantly so he let him be pulled along and off campus, figuring that he needed to get his mind off of things anyways.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------

Liam creeped Harry out. Not only did he get more physically intimidating every time Harry saw him, but he had this aura about him, this vibe that established his dominance and made everyone around him cower in his presence. Except Zayn. Whenever they went to meet up with Liam for whatever they were getting, Zayn turned into someone else -- and more importantly, someone else that Liam didn’t look like he was going to tear apart with his bare hands.

“You get off on making me wait or something, Malik?” Liam asked Zayn when they met up with him in the back of some club that Harry had never been to. Harry always had to hang back and pretend as if he wasn't there when in Liam’s presence -- Harry never knew if that was because Liam didn’t notice him or if Zayn didn't want Harry to be seen.

“Like to keep you on your toes,” Zayn replied, a little smirk in the corner of his lips. “Don’t want you getting bored of me.”

And there it was. Harry saw it. The slightest quirk in the corner of Liam’s lips almost as if he was about to smile as he counted the notes of cash in hand. 

“Don’t take it all in one hit,” Liam advised as he handed Zayn the small bag of powder. Zayn held onto Liam’s hand as Liam didn't let go of the bag, but Harry couldn't tell whether that was because he actually wanted Zayn to listen to him or because that lingering contact was something of his subconscious. Even Harry could see the sinister pull, the tension between them, but he hadn't dared say anything, tuning out with what they were saying as a pang of jealousy struck him.

“Cheers,” Zayn said, shaking Liam’s hand and winking at him as he turned back to Harry, stuffing what he’d just bought in his back pocket.

And when Zayn came back and slid his arm around Harry’s waist, Harry stuck a little closer to him just to feel Zayn there, too aware of Liam’s eyes boring into the back of his head.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------

This time, Harry couldn't find an ounce of hesitancy as Zayn carefully patted the powder down onto his makeshift coffee table. There was something in the back of his mind, ringing in his ears a lot like Louis’ voice while he simultaneously stared at Zayn and could see nothing but Liam standing too close to him.

“Come on, babe,” Zayn said, but Harry was already kneeling by the table. Zayn stared at him, a little surprised, as Harry took a hit like he was made to do it. “Well, shit,” Zayn chuckled. 

Harry was grinning, feeling the buzz begin to rush through his system, and he silenced Zayn’s laughter with his lips. 

He climbed into Zayn’s lap, full of confidence and determination and Zayn moaned into Harry’s mouth in appreciation of the shift in control.

Oh, that ended up being a great night.

They somehow stumbled to the pub crawl and ended up following some people back to their place. 

On top of what he and Zayn had, some of the other people at the party had their own stuff and it got passed around, too. Harry and Zayn traded some pills through their kisses as people they didn’t know whooped and cheered, wolf-whistling as they laughed into each others’ mouths. 

Zayn kept getting out the camera on his phone and taking photos of Harry sipping from Zayn’s drink, Harry laughing at the antics of the others, and then finally one of them kissing which led to a lot more when Zayn had dropped the camera.

The entire night, every time Harry brushed up against someone, it was warmth that spread through every nerve, every vein, and when he felt Zayn there, arms circling his waist, he felt invincible.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **TRIGGER WARNING:** This story will contain depictions of self-harm and drug abuse. If any of these things are triggering for you, please don't go any further.

Pounding headaches, hazy memories, and soul-numbing emptiness became part of Harry's morning routine. Reminders of nights before came in the form of Facebook postings by newfound friends and digital evidence logged to cell phones. Reminders of things that, sober, Harry was none too proud of. That morning was no different from all the rest.

Turning over, he knew his surroundings by heart by now. It wasn't the warm and complacent atmosphere he had at his parents’ home. It wasn't the cozy comfort he settled into there. The white brick walls surrounding him, the less than comfortable futon, and the freezing cold wasn't his room. Still, it was home. It was Zayn’s home and Harry had come to make it his own. He still feared the elevator and the vagrants he crossed paths with everytime he went to and fro, but this was home because this was where Zayn was.

Sitting up in bed, Harry pushed wild curls from his face and glanced around the quiet room with a sniffle. Rubbing his hands over his bare arms, he stood from the bed and went to the thermostat on the wall, pushing the dial up to heat the open area. Nothing. Not a click or a whir as the system came on. Glancing to the kitchen and at the microwave, there was no glow of neon numbers. Reaching a hand out, Harry flicked at the light switch beside the thermostat. It didn't change the presence of light in the room or lack thereof. Turning to the futon in the middle of the room, he tugged his lower lip between his teeth. He didn't want to wake Zayn; didn't want to deal with his cranky attitude if he did, but something was wrong.

“Zayn,” Harry whispered, crawling back onto the mattress and next to Zayn. “Zayn, wake up. Your power is broken.”

“Hmm?” Zayn groaned, not even turning over to look at his boyfriend, but it was clear he heard what Harry said when he spoke, “It's not broken; it's out.”

“What happened to it?”

Zayn turned over then, looking at Harry with furrowed brows, “I didn't pay it; I didn't have the money.”

“And they just turn it off? Just like that? It’s November!”

Zayn’s lips formed into a smile as he chuckled, “Fuck, Harry, you are so posh. Don't worry about it; it happens all the time. I'll get it taken care of. Go back to sleep.”

Zayn turned over and pulled the cover back over himself, closing his eyes, and Harry followed suit as he curled against Zayn for comfort and warmth, but he didn't have it as easy. He was cold and worried and his brain was running a mile a minute as he tried to figure out how Zayn would fix this problem. Where he came from, things like this didn't happen. Harry wished he could take Zayn to where he came from, take care of him the same way Zayn took care of him, but then Harry remembered the home he rarely spent time at now, and well, anywhere Zayn was was more of a home than that place had ever felt like. Zayn took care of him, and Zayn always kept to what he said he’d do.

________________________________________________________________________

They were at Liam's again. They were always at bloody Liam's lately or in his company, it seemed. It bothered Harry more than he wanted to admit aloud. Liam was Zayn's friend, his best friend, but Harry couldn't shake the feelings he got when Liam was around.

His presence brought out another side of Zayn, a side that Harry didn't understand. While Zayn was quick assert himself with him, with Liam, he just...didn’t. It was almost like Liam sent Zayn into this role of submission, and Harry wondered if it was that connection that got Zayn into what he was into in the first place. On the other hand, Liam wasn’t much different when it came to Zayn, and that was what scared Harry.

“What do you want, Zayn?” Liam demanded as he stepped out of his bedroom, towel wrapped around his damp waist, to greet the two people who'd came into his flat via Zayn’s key.

“I need some money,” Zayn called to him, making himself right at home as he went to the fridge and grabbed a soda, getting one for Harry as well.

“What's new? You always need money.”

“The power is out again.”

“Didn't I give you money for that?”

Zayn shrugged, opening his can, “I needed new shoes.”

“What the hell makes you think I am going to keep giving you money all the time, Zayn? You don’t even sell half the stuff I give you to repay me because you’re too busy fucking using my shit up. Why should I give you more money?”

“Because you have it and I don’t, and you don't like seeing me suffer.”

One glance around the flat was proof that, yes, Liam did have it. Liam had a lot of things that Zayn didn’t have, and Harry was grateful for it because he could enjoy heat for however long they were there.

Harry stood awkwardly next to Zayn in the kitchen as Zayn and Liam just stared at one another. He didn't know how this was going to go, but it was obvious that this wasn't Zayn's first time taking care of his business by getting Liam’s assistance. Liam eventually caved and sighed, running a hand over his face before he motioned for Zayn to follow him with a finger, not having to ask twice before Zayn moved away from the marble breakfast bar.

“Make yourself at home, Harry. Remote's on the table,” Liam spoke as he went into his room with Zayn, shutting the door behind them.

Harry only hesitated for a second before he stepped into the living room, settling down on leather cushions and picking up the remote he had to assume was for the television. Powering the flat screen on, he settled on a movie to watch, and despite the surround sound in the room, there was no mistaking the building noise coming from down the hall. No, there was no way he could confuse any of the action-packed themes and scenes on the screen with the sound of moans that were way too familiar. Moans he heard nearly every night from his boyfriend, but they weren't being made with him this time.

________________________________________________________________________

“Har, wait. Babe – I just – Harry, I can’t breathe!”

Stilling his movements atop Zayn, Harry sat up to look down at the naked man beneath him, making out most of his features in the dark room.

“What’s wrong?”

“Your hair is smothering me.”

“My – what?!”

“And you’re being kind of rough.”

Harry stared back at Zayn in slight disbelief. There he was overexerting himself to pleasure him, and Zayn was complaining about Harry’s hair and his movements. If Harry wasn’t done before, then he was definitely done now. Moving up and off of Zayn, tensing a bit as the fullness left him, Harry moved off of the futon and started redressing, trying not to let himself get worked up over what he knew Zayn would say was nothing. He always said Harry’s thoughts about _him_ were nothing.

“Harry, I didn’t mean stop,” Zayn sat up to look at him.

“Well, I wanted to. I don’t want to smother you,” Harry mumbled as he pulled his jeans up. “And I guess I can’t make you feel good like Liam does, so– ”

“Stop,” Zayn demanded. “That didn’t mean anything, Harry. Nothing in life comes without a price, baby. Did you want another night with no heat? Liam gave us enough to get the power back on and then some; you should be grateful instead of bitching about how I got it from him.”

His thoughts, as usual, were nothing. But to Harry, they were _something_. Zayn wasn’t Liam’s; he was his and he couldn’t apologize for not wanting Zayn to pretend to be Liam’s no matter how many hours or how much money it was for.

“Harry, look at me.”

Harry kept his back to him, but his trembling shoulders and heavy breaths were a dead giveaway to the tears that were falling down his cheeks, and Zayn didn’t need him to look at him to see that.

“Har, stop overreacting. It’s over now. Come back to bed.”

But Harry still had his memories of sitting on that sofa watching the Hulk tear things apart at Iron Man’s urging and turning up the volume so that the only grunts he could hear were those of the green giant on the screen, and the only screams he heard were the civilians running for their lives from scene to scene. He had those memories of Liam’s name rolling off Zayn’s lips in ways it shouldn’t have, of the marks Zayn’s legs left remnants of around Liam’s bare waist and that his lips left against his collarbone, of a towel-clad and worn Liam counting a handful of bills and his amusement when he made Zayn practically beg before he handed it over.

It wasn’t over to him, but still…he unbuttoned his jeans, tossed his shirt aside with them and climbed back into bed with Zayn.

________________________________________________________________________

They went to Liam’s again the following night. They went to Liam’s to surround themselves with people who all seemed to have intentions on dying young, who didn’t seem to know the meaning of overdosing or alcohol poisoning or the positives that came with contraceptives, where Zayn seemed to fall right in line and be loved by people Harry had never met or even seen, where Liam seemed to be everyone’s God, and Zayn was his Virgin Mary, the bearer of all his good things.

From his spot hidden behind the breakfast bar in the kitchen of Liam’s flat, Harry looked on as Liam and Zayn stayed posted near the bedroom door, Liam’s back pressed against the red painted wall and Zayn right in front of him. With a grin, Liam pulled a pill from his pocket, placed it on his tongue and, as expected, Zayn leaned in to let their lips lock as he took it. Harry was sure Zayn had the tablet already, but that didn’t stop their kiss from lingering on.

Looking away, Harry glanced around the room to the people who were more or less doing the same thing: passing this and that, finding intimacy with someone whose name they wouldn’t remember when daylight came, liquid burning down their throats, bodies grinding to some of the worst music Harry had ever heard.

“Here, baby.”

Harry looked in the direction of Zayn’s voice, staring at him across the bar.

“Here, take it.”

Then he noticed Zayn was holding his hand out to him. Looking at the tiny sphere of yellow and blue, Harry bit at his lower lip, but reached out to take it though he didn’t do anything else.

“Harry,” Zayn whispered. “Swallow it, babe. It’ll help you relax.”

Still, Harry hesitated, and he could tell that didn’t sit right with Zayn. It was written all over his face, in his eyes, but Harry could see the drug taking over slowly and his inability to formulate that concern aloud form.

“Babe…?”

“I have to use the bathroom,” Harry blurted and Zayn motioned in the general vicinity of the washroom, though Harry had been there enough times to know exactly where it was.

Hurrying across the crowded room, Harry locked himself inside the room, back pressed against the door as he slid down it to sit. He had his hand clasped tightly around the pill as he tried to will away all those building emotions he was feeling, against the fight to toss it into the porcelain bowl some two feet away or lift his palm to his mouth. In the end, the former won, and Harry finally exited the bathroom as the tablet rushed down the drainage system.

Looking around the room, Harry could feel those emotions come to a head. This was a place where the people all seemed to have intentions on dying young and could care less about their tomorrows; where Liam was God, Zayn was his right hand but where no one worshipped them more than they worshipped one another; where Harry knew he didn’t belong.

Without a word to the lover he couldn’t find in the room, or a peep that went noticed by anyone else there, Harry made his exit from the flat.

________________________________________________________________________

It was late. Too late for any unannounced visitors, so Louis couldn’t have imagined who’d be knocking on the door of his flat at that hour. Moving from the sofa, he trekked down the short hall to the door, peeking through the tiny hole to a mess of brown curls, and he sighed. There was a bit of hesitation on Louis’ part before he opened the door to greet Harry, knowing there could be no good in this visit.

He didn’t get the opportunity to question Harry about his presence or hear whatever bad news he’d be on the receiving end of before Harry reached out to engulf Louis’ smaller frame in a hug that was probably too tight, but it made Louis understand. Returning the embrace, they stayed like that for a while, bodies curled together as Harry let those emotions that’d been welling inside of him pour out and Louis do his best to comfort without a word.

“Just give me a minute and I can bring you home-”

“No,” Harry shook his head, hugging Louis tighter. “I’m not going back there…I can’t go back there with him.”

“I meant _home_ , Harry, to your parents’.” Louis pulled back to look at the other man, his eyes searching Harry’s in an attempt to know what’d been going on with him, the reason why he hadn’t seen him in over three weeks. “Just…come in, and I’ll get ready.”

Stepping further into the flat, Harry stayed in the hallway decorated with signs of the impending Christmas holiday he could only dream of seeing at the rat hole he’d been calling home for nearly three and a half months. He watched Louis retreat, unmoving, but he peeked into the living room at the sound of soft voices and conversation being exchanged. Near the well-lit tree, Harry saw the owner of the voice he didn’t recognize.

The brown-haired male practically towered over Louis even more than he himself had when they used to kiss, something that seemed to happen so long ago, and really, maybe it had been long ago. The smile that Louis passed the other man’s way as he gave him pecks and touches that acted as a sign he didn’t want him to leave reminded Harry of the smile he used to get from Louis.

But Harry and Louis were no more, and Louis had moved on. Louis moved on time and time again before Harry did, and now, Louis had moved on yet again. This time, though, it seemed different. There was something there that Harry didn’t see with the others. This time, Harry saw what Niall said he did when he used to see Harry and Louis interact.

“I’m so sorry to cut our night so short,” Louis spoke as he walked down the hallway, stopping once he reached Harry. “Greg, before you go, this is-”

“Harry?” Greg questioned, raising an eyebrow and Harry slowly nodded, reaching out to shake Greg’s extended hand. “I thought so. I’m Greg James, and I feel like I know you already from how much Louis has mentioned you. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

“That’s weird because I didn’t know you existed until a minute ago.”

Harry could see Greg’s smile drop slightly, and when Louis tossed a glared his way, and he immediately felt bad for the comment.

“I’m sorry. It was nice meeting you, hope to see you again sometime and you can tell me all the great things Louis has told you about me,” Harry smiled.

With a nod, Greg shrugged his coat on, “I hope we get another chance to talk as well, Harry.”

Harry watched on as Louis saw Greg out, words whispered between them that Harry got the gist of being plans for the following day.

“I’m going to get my keys then I’m bringing you home,” Louis turned from the door after he’d closed it and headed back down the hall.

“No,” Harry said, getting his full attention. “I want to stay here…with you.”

“Harry, I think you should go to your parents’. They’ve been worried sick about you, and I keep telling them that you’re all right and you’re busy with school and that’s why they don’t hear from you a lot, and I just think they need to see you.”

Harry wasn’t sure how much his parents needed to see him, especially looking the way he was: at least several pounds lighter, paler and looking as if he’d been through the wringer and back several times. He wasn’t sure if they should see him that way, but Louis pulled up to the Primrose home sometime later that night with promises to help Harry get better, promises Harry knew he’d keep, and Harry made his way from the car to the two people awaiting his arrival on the front porch.

________________________________________________________________________

Harry had worked himself ragged to pull out the best grades on his finals, the best papers he’d ever written and best projects he’d ever done in an effort to at least pull a C average that semester, and the fact that he’d done that showed all over his face, that same face that’d begun to fill out more and get some of its color back. That same face giving medication-induced happiness and smiles in the same place he was every Christmas Eve with his family, the one place he probably wouldn’t have been at if it weren’t for him. _Him_.

Harry could feel his heart racing as he walked down the stairs of the cathedral and spotted the man standing on the sidewalk across the street. Looking back to the crowds of those leaving midnight mass, exchanging well-wishings of Christmas cheer, shaking hands with the priest, Harry escaped from them and went over to Zayn.

“What are you doing here?”

“You told me this was what you used to do with your family,” Zayn said, and of course, Zayn didn’t forget because Zayn never forgot anything Harry said to him. “I’ve been looking all over for you, since that night you left Liam’s party. I never saw you around school, I asked Niall and he just fucking ignored me. Harry, I couldn’t find you anywhere and I looked and I called, and you never answered or texted back. Why did you leave? Were you never coming back? How could you just – I don’t understand – how could you just leave me like that?”

Over two weeks since that party, and Zayn had been looking for him. He hadn’t just moved on. He hadn’t fallen into Liam’s arms the way he’d fallen into his bed that day. He’d been looking for him.

“I…I’m sorry,” was all Harry could say.

He couldn’t give a reason why. He couldn’t say anything to defend himself. All he could do was apologize. Apologize and give himself back to the man who’d lost him, and longed for his return just as much as Harry longed to go back to him.

“I’m sorry,” Harry repeated, firmer, as he stepped in closer to Zayn, cupping his face in his hands. “I’m sorry…I love you so much.”

More apologies were whispered from Harry’s lips as he snaked his arms around Zayn’s shoulders to embrace him, Zayn’s arms locking around his waist, in full view of anyone who looked across the street or passed by, including his parents, sisters and brother-in-law. People that looked none too pleased when Harry’s gaze turned back to them or when they returned home where he began packing up his stuff to return to a place they knew nothing about or when they watched Harry leave after a hearty breakfast that Christmas morning with kisses goodbye.

________________________________________________________________________

Harry had to admire the effort Zayn went through to make up for Christmas, and to make up for the lack of the holiday he’d brought into the studio flat. Settled on the open futon with a mug of tea, Harry chuckled as he watched Zayn hang the last ‘Happy New Year’ banner.

“People don’t often decorate for this. They typically just go out and get wasted.”

“Well, we’re going to stay in and bring in the New Year together,” Zayn crawled up the mattress to settle in front of Harry, placing a ginger kiss to his lips.

“I like that idea,” Harry said and almost couldn’t believe his next statement, but hey, it had to be said. “But people like to get wasted on New Year’s Eve…you should be making that happen.”

It was obvious from the look on Zayn’s face that he caught onto Harry’s statement, and he laughed as he kissed his lips again.

“You would rather I do that than stay home and spend time with you?”

“I would rather you do what you have to do so you don’t reach that point of last resort again when the bills are due.”

“Okay, okay. We can go out tonight, yeah?”

Harry nodded, giving a gentle smile, though he wasn’t that thrilled about the direction the night would likely head in.

________________________________________________________________________

The fact that they’d gone a week without his name being mentioned or them gracing him with their presence or vice-versa didn’t mean Liam was out of the picture, and that was proven so that night as soon as they stepped into the club. Harry didn’t understand why so many people flocked to Liam the way they did, even as he watched Zayn gravitate straight over to him at Liam’s silent beckoning when their eyes locked on one another. Yet and still, he trailed right along behind Zayn to where Liam stood with other members of their group of friends.

Liam didn’t say anything when they reached him, but Harry could tell he was upset. He’d seen him give Zayn that look he’d given him when they arrived a time or two before, and it was nothing like the possessive, lust-filled expression he looked at Zayn with any other time. Snubbing out his cigarette in a nearby ashtray, Liam then turned his attention to Zayn when he grabbed him by his shirt collar and tossed him against one of the club’s brick walls.

“Where the hell have you been?! I’ve been calling you for a fucking week.”

Intelligence kicked in before instinct because he knew that whatever fight he would get into with Liam in an attempt to defend Zayn wouldn’t end well on his part. Taking that step back that he’d made closer to the two men, Harry watched on as his boyfriend stared back at Liam with wide, pleading eyes and whispered explanations that came out almost in whimpers.

There was a sense of calm from Zayn, though, as he tried to talk Liam down, and even with brown eyes glaring at Zayn as if they’d burn holes straight through him, there was still that Liam that Harry knew only Zayn brought out.

“I’m sorry.”

But Zayn’s broken apology seemed to do nothing to relax Liam, especially when his hand squeezed around Zayn’s throat. Harry glanced to the small group of people who no doubt had been witness to this before, but they all seemed to have the sense to stay out of it. Well, when it came to Zayn, Harry didn’t have that sense. All he cared about was his lover’s well-being, even if it meant taking on someone with the ability and mentality to likely kill them both.

“Liam, calm down,” Harry murmured, reaching out to place a trembling hand on Liam’s shoulder.

And Liam stopped, just like that; stopped choking just to punch Zayn in the stomach despite the smaller man still fighting to catch his breath from his oxygen being cut short. Harry was quickly at Zayn’s side as he doubled-over, rubbing comforting circles into the small of his back.

“Get up, Zayn. Enough with the fucking drama,” Liam spoke.

And Zayn got up, just like that; still clearly aching with heavy intakes of breaths, he got up and looked at Liam. Then Harry saw it. Saw that look between them. That one he hated. That one where Zayn looked to be likening Liam to godliness and Liam thought of Zayn as his counterpart. That look of pure worship that Harry still didn’t understand or appreciate, but that drove him mad with envy.

“Come here,” Liam motioned for Zayn, kissing at his temple and hugging him with one arm as he used his other hand to slip something into Zayn’s palm.

Harry didn’t know what was being said when Liam whispered into his ear, but Harry knew that Zayn had work to do, so he made himself scarce, settling between the bar and the dance floor, just watching the people enjoy their last moments of the year as they prepared to bring in a new one.

“Harry!” Harry recognized that Irish-laden accent, but he ignored it. “Har!” he ignored it again. “Harry!” he couldn’t ignore it that time because Niall rushed over to him, pulling him into a tight embrace. “How have you been, mate?”

“Fine,” Harry mumbled.

Harry, Niall and Louis had been three peas in a pod. Where you found one, it was likely you’d find the other two. One pea was gone, but still other two still remained and so, there was Louis trailing up right after Niall.

“Harry!” More hugs that Harry didn’t return. “Where have you been? I haven’t heard from you since Christmas Eve, and your mum told me that you left on Christmas to spend time with a friend. What happened, man?”

“Oh…I’ve been around.”

“You’ve been around? Around where?” Niall laughed and Harry shrugged, his eyes unconsciously trailing over to where Zayn was huddled in a corner.

“Oh.” Louis spoke, noticing the other man’s presence. “I should have know that was the friend. I don’t get it. How could you be so fucking stupid?”

“Louis, stop,” Niall tried to intervene.

“No, I’m not going to stop, Niall. You back off because it wasn’t your doorstep he showed up on after midnight, crying his eyes out or your car he sat in begging for help or your bloody time he wasted trying to get his shit together to pass his classes,” Louis glared, directing all of his words at Harry. “You’re fucking pathetic, Harry Styles.”

“Pathetic? Because I followed my own mind instead of listening to what you told me to do for a change? Or because I went back to the one person in the world who gives a shit about me?”

“What?!” Niall turned to Harry, offense written all over his face.

“You heard me. I was gone from him for weeks and he came to find me. I’ve been gone from you for one and you fucking tossers didn’t even bother. You know where Zayn’s place is, Louis.”

“Harry, that’s not fair,” Niall said.

“What’s not fair is for you to come over asking me how I’m doing and where I’ve been when I’ve been a door knock away. If you cared, you would have found a way to figure these things out before randomly running into me in a club.”

“You’re being a complete a dick right now, Harry,” Niall snorted, shaking his head.

“You know what they say, Niall,” Louis spoke, “You’re only as good as the company you keep and the only company he has lately is Zayn and his rubbish group of friends.”

“You don’t know a thing about Zayn or his friends,” Harry said loudly, moving in closer to Louis before a voice behind him stepped in.

“Something wrong, Harry?”

Looking to where Liam had walked over to stand next to him, Harry shook his head at the other man. Liam had been intimidating to Harry the first time he’d met him, and apparently, Louis and Niall felt that same intimidation because they were turning and walking away, tossing Harry disappointed glares over their shoulders.

“Harry,” Liam called, getting his attention. “Let me know if you’re ever having any sort of trouble, okay? I’ll take care it.” Harry just stared back at Liam quietly, but it was clear he was expecting a response. “Okay?”

Nodding again, Harry mumbled, “Okay.”

Liam slung an arm across Harry’s shoulder and tugged him along to area at the back of the club where he and his friends had been all night.

“You mean a lot to Zayn, so that makes you my family too, yeah?” Liam said, brown eyes settling on green and then Harry saw that look; the one he’d thought was reserved for only Zayn, but was now directed at him, and Harry nodded. “You’ll be alright.”

One hand settled at the base of Harry’s spine, rubbing his back as the other grabbed a glass from the table, shoving it towards him. Then, there was Liam flashing a blue tablet Harry recognized all too well at him before he placed it on his tongue. Liam’s words resonated in his head - _family_ \- and Harry swallowed back the shot of liquor that’d been passed his way before he leaned in and pressed his lips to Liam’s in the same fashion his boyfriend had done so many times before to retrieve the pill he was offering, the one that Harry knew would bring him that euphoric rush he needed at that moment, that would make him feel as if he floating, as if the world was his for the taking.

Stepping back from Liam after a brief locking of their lips, Harry looked across the room at his boyfriend, exchanging a smile with him and mouthing back those three words Zayn had mouthed to him first. It was almost the New Year, and the story went that you should spend it doing what you planned to do the following year. Harry was doing just that: being surrounded by friends, friends and _family_.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was written by [paralleltonone](http://archiveofourown.org/users/paralleltonone/profile) | [Tumblr](http://livewhilewereforeveryoung.tumblr.com/)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **TRIGGER WARNING!** This story will contain depictions of self-harm and drug abuse. If any of these things are triggering for you, please don't go any further.

Finding his feet in Zayn's world was something that Harry thought he'd never do. He loved Zayn so easily, fell into tandem with Zayn so effortlessly that it unsettled him with how hard and how daunting he found it trying to fit in with Zayn's friends, especially Liam (almost always Liam). But after the New Years Eve party when Liam called him family, when Liam took care of him as Harry felt utterly dejected in front of the two boys he'd grown up with, Harry realised how wanted he was after all. How much he did fit in because everyone welcomed him with open arms and accepted him for who he was, not once asking a question that Harry didn't want to answer. They never contested him or tried to pull him in another direction. They never pried or felt entitled to what he and Zayn had. Zayn's friends never fought him about decisions that he knew were purely his _own._

Nobody tried to change him the way that Louis did.

And probably more than all of that, Harry realised that he never thought he'd find acceptance from Liam. He found that growing closer to Liam, being accepted into Liam's circle (that very few people seemed to be allowed in to) was something that he needed, because he didn't feel left out anymore. He felt better about his relationship with Zayn now that he was included. Knowing Liam better and stepping into the light from the sidelines that he used to hang out on made him better, made _them_ better, because now he really took Zayn's word for it. Took Liam's word for it. He let his trust grow and he accepted things for the way that they were. He let himself smile, relax; let himself feel the highs and relish in the absence of the lows, and he let himself kiss, touch and love because he trusted them.

The adoration that grew for Zayn and Liam, for the lives that they were living, began to blind Harry. Began to morph into a happy illusion of constant euphoria, constant laughs and music -- things that Harry convinced himself he'd been missing out on due to how tied down he used to be to Louis and his old life.

They were sitting around at Liam's one night after a party, and Harry was lounging on Liam's sofa next to him.

There were stray couples all around the room, some having already fallen asleep, others making out on the carpet, all coming down from the high of the night. Harry had no idea what time it was but he knew that it was late. Zayn was in the bathroom and Harry was going to give him another minute before he went to check up on him, because either Zayn had fallen asleep in there or he was shooting up something else. Harry wanted to stop him because he was coming down from his own high, and if Zayn was going to be up in the clouds, he wanted to be there, too. He wanted to follow Zayn everywhere.

Liam slung an arm around Harry's shoulders and tugged him into his side. "You're great, you know that, Harry?" Liam asked.

He slurred a little, but there was a lazy smile on Liam's face, one unlike Harry had seen before. A smile that didn't harbour an edge of malice intended to intimidate. It was just a smile, and it looked a bit off on Liam's face, but Harry would always rather a happy Liam rather than an angry one.

Harry let himself settle against Liam and he sighed, "Not bad yourself, Li."

Liam had been trailing his fingers over Harry's shoulder and that made him stop. Harry didn't notice at first, he just lay his head on Liam's shoulder and stayed like that, overly exhausted from the party.

His eyes were fluttering shut when he heard Liam say, "Li?"

Harry opened his eyes, confused and when he lifted his head to look at Liam, Harry could swear that it was wonder in Liam's eyes. That didn't calm Harry's nerves, though. He thought that he'd said something wrong, that this moment was over and that Liam was going to push him out just as quick as he'd welcomed him in, but then Liam's hands were in his hair, fingers threading through his curls and he nudged Harry's head closer. Harry couldn't mask his uncertainty, but when Liam closed the gap between their mouths and their lips met, Harry didn't pull away.

 _This is alright,_ he thought to himself. _It's Liam._

Like that made it okay, like that made sense. He'd kissed Liam before, no big deal.

He thought of Zayn but Zayn wasn't exactly the poster boy for fidelity in his mind, and whatever, Harry didn't feel for Liam what he felt for Zayn. These kisses didn't mean anything. They were just the result of a wild night and the intoxicants that were beginning to dissolve to nothing in their veins.

But when Liam's hand began to trail from Harry's hair and down his neck, from his neck down his shoulders and arms, Harry tried as hard as he could to stifle the urge to edge away when he felt Liam's hand in his lap.

Liam squeezed Harry's thigh as he deepened the kiss, licking his way into Harry's mouth. Harry was pressed back into the sofa as Liam swung one leg over Harry's, his hand still on Harry's thigh. When his hand rode up higher, Harry couldn't stop the muffled, little yelp that escaped his lips -- and it didn't fool Liam into interpreting it as a satisfied groan. Liam stopped, only for a split second, and Harry was surprised that he did, until he realised that his hand was pressing against Liam's chest trying to push him back.

"You're really beautiful, Harry," Liam murmured without letting Harry speak, ignoring the apprehension in Harry's eyes. "Zayn got one thing right, at least."

He tried to kiss Harry again but Harry pulled back and said, "Liam, maybe we shouldn't--"

"Shouldn't?" Liam asked, confused, and then his smile was gone. Very quickly the Liam that Harry had gotten to know was returning and Harry was suddenly wide awake, his palms sweating. "You trust me, don't you?"

"Yeah," Harry said, trying to ignore the way his voice wavered. "Of course I do. It's just, I'm not--"

Harry couldn't get in the word 'comfortable' because Liam's voice was sharp. "Good, because I wouldn't want to think you don't trust me. I told you that I care about you, Harry. I told you that you mean a lot to me -- that means something to you, right?"

Harry nodded, too afraid to respond.

"Because you do mean a lot to me. And you mean a lot to Zayn, too. We love you, you know. We want you to be happy. We want to take care of you -- Zayn, especially." Liam lowered his voice to a whisper and leaned a little closer. "So just relax. You wouldn't want any of that to change, would you?" he asked as he gripped Harry's upper thigh tightly, his fingernails digging through the fabric of Harry's jeans and all of a sudden, the euphoria was gone.

Liam's eyes were hard, piercing as he stared at Harry, and all Harry could do was shake his head, ignoring the way that his fingers shook.

 _It's just Liam,_ he tried to convince himself. _He's just looking out for you. You're being an idiot._

And before Harry could say anything, Zayn came back and Harry had never been so glad to see him.

"Not trying to steal him away from me are you?" Zayn teased as he came over, extending a hand to Harry. His eyes were bloodshot but there was a satisfied smile on his lips and Harry wanted to curl against Zayn and hide forever because he could still feel Liam's eyes on him.

"Of course not," Liam scoffed, sounding so unlike how he had mere moments ago. "He's all yours, Malik."

Liam got to his feet and saw them out. He hugged them both goodbye and Harry tried as hard as he could not to shake in Liam's hold, but he knew that he did anyway. Knew by the look in Liam's eyes when he lingered as he let him go.

Knew in the tone of his voice when he called after Zayn, "Take care of that one, yeah?"

Harry stuck so close to Zayn's side that he almost expected to disappear into Zayn's skin.

When Zayn frowned at him when they were very well out of earshot and asked, "You okay, babe?" Harry opted not to mention Liam's advances and take what he'd been given with a smile.

"Of course." He pressed a careless kiss to Zayn's neck. "Love you."

And when Zayn murmured, "I love you," in return, Harry let himself relax.

\--------------------------------------------------------------

Harry's interaction with Liam was quickly forgotten once he'd gotten back in the swing of school. Well, once he'd realised that he'd probably better at least _try_ and get back in the swing of school.

It wasn't easy, the distraction was a lot better than calculations and memorisation of theory when Zayn would slide onto their futon and not-so-accidentally let Harry's textbook fall to the floor, worming his way into Harry's arms and attacking his lips.

 _Yep, definitely better,_ Harry's mind had hummed when he felt Zayn's hands roaming his torso before pushing his shirt up and over his head.

Harry tried, he really did. He brought home his textbooks and picked them up off of the floor whenever Zayn would bounce onto the mattress to remind him to, "chill about school." He took notes and he went to (some of) his classes. He even managed to coerce Zayn into helping him study from time to time, and he thought he was doing well. He was keeping up, keeping his head just above water, and he was doing good. He was proud of himself, especially when he bumped into Louis or Niall in the hallways and saw them eye him curiously, as if confused as to what he was actually doing on campus. It satisfied him that he was managing without them. That he was subverting everything they thought because he was actually doing it. He had Zayn, he had his new life, he had school and he was doing it all without Louis, Niall and those damn pills that he used to need to keep him going.

He couldn't help but smirk at Louis every time he saw him, as if Louis was the disease that he was beating single-handedly, but the satisfaction never lasted long because it didn't seem to get to Louis as much as Harry wanted it to.

Harry spoke to Louis for the first time in months in the library during the end of study week.

Harry was feeling pretty good despite the pressure of looming exams, and he was going to get in some study before he went home to find Zayn. Zayn had said something about going out to do his rounds and that he'd be back before Harry was done, promising him a night out, and Harry kissed him and mumbled a quiet, "Look forward to it," because he really did. He'd been studying all week and if Zayn wanted to make him feel good, he was going to let him.

He saw Greg first, mostly because Greg saw him.

Greg, Harry was quick to realise, wasn't one of those people that did the avoidance thing. When Greg's eyes settled on Harry, he immediately waved and came over.

Study week was basically code for 'library sleepovers' because students that were cramming showed up at all hours of the morning, often in their pyjamas or bundled in their blankets and dropped wherever they fell with a textbook in hand. Very few actually got to revising, however, most just falling asleep wherever they were as other students stepped over them as they dragged their feet to the computers.

Greg, too, seemed to be embracing the university lifestyle, clad in a hoodie and pyjama pants as he came over. His hair was dishevelled and he was pretty pale but he was smiling, eyes bright despite it being almost ten PM and Greg looking like he'd been there since eight AM...three days before.

"Harry!" he exclaimed when he came over to his table. "How are you doing, mate?" he asked, beaming.

He took a seat before Harry could invite him to, and Harry smiled despite himself. "Hey," he replied. "Greg, right?" he asked, though he remembered his name well enough. Couldn't get it out of his mind no matter how he tried because that night at Louis' was something that refused to leave him. No matter how great he felt moving on with his life, his life without Louis in it, it was like some part of his being continued to taunt him with memories of how they were together, how damn in love they were as stupid, reckless teenagers. It irritated him every time he woke up with Louis' name on his lips and mind after falling asleep in Zayn's arms, just another dream that served as a replay of events already passed. He hated it and he wanted to hate Greg, too, but he didn't know him well enough to pick out his flaws. Didn't know him well enough to compare to himself, to see how far up or down Louis had moved on the dating scale.

"Yeah, that's right," Greg responded, seemingly unphased by the lack of familiarity. It seemed, to Greg, that knowing Louis was enough common ground to strike up a conversation. "You here for some last minute cramming?"

Harry shrugged. "Not really. I mean, I've been studying at home and stuff. Just wanted to kill some time before I went out later, I suppose," he said. It wasn't a complete lie -- he had been studying at home, but he was probably over exaggerating how blasé he really was about exams. Because though he was doing fine, he _was,_ he'd find the anxiety creeping in whenever Zayn left to do some work for Liam, leaving him alone, or whenever he'd go a couple of days too long without a hit of something.

"Oh, yeah," Greg said, nodding. "That's cool. I've been here since yesterday. I'm starving," he laughed. "It's alright, though. It's all about the experience, isn't it?"

"I suppose," Harry assented, not wanting to ask. Refusing to ask the question that had been on his mind since his eyes had settled on Greg.

But he doesn't have to because Greg said, "Lou's here, too. He just ducked down to get a book."

Harry nodded, trying to act like he didn't care, but a little part of him did want to see Louis. Just so Louis could see how okay he was, how well he was doing without him -- though the longer he stayed in Greg's presence, he realised that Louis was probably doing way better -- and maybe a little part of him did just want to see Louis.

Harry ran out of conversation, not really knowing what to talk about, but when Greg asked in an undertone, "Hey...are you alright?" a million and one random, trivial, useless topics that could've been fodder for small talk suddenly come to mind too late.

"Yeah, why?" Harry asked, trying to remain passive. He didn't want to know why he was being asked, didn't want to know if Louis was worried about him. He didn't want his concern; he didn't need it.

Greg shrugged, then and focused on rifling through the marked pages of his text book. "I just. I know I don't know you too well, Harry--"

"That's right," Harry said. "You don't."

But that didn't make Greg re-consider the conversation as he continued, "But those guys that you're hanging out with -- Zayn? Liam Payne, is it? I know guys like that."

Harry shook his head, feeling his face flush as if he was being exposed and he didn't know what he was trying to hide first. "You don't know them."

Greg sighed. "Harry, I--"

"It's really none of your business, Greg," Harry snapped, his voice sharp.

Greg frowned, and he looked like he wanted to say more but then Louis came over, a thick textbook in hand. He had bags under his eyes from lack of sleep but he looked okay. He looked well.

"Hey," Louis greeted when he came over. He eyed Harry, and it was obvious in his expression that this wasn't something he was expecting to come back to.

"Hey, babe," Greg replied, grinning up at Louis from where he sat.

Louis smiled down at Greg and it was as if Harry wasn't there anymore because Louis leaned down and kissed him, tangling his fingers in Greg's already messy hair. Greg smiled into the kiss and when Louis pulled away, his eyes were doing that stupid crinkled at the corners thing that Harry used to love.

(The kiss was just a peck, but to Harry, they might as well have snogged for hours the way it dragged on in his mind.)

Harry didn't appreciate being treated like furniture because he was still here and Louis and Greg had been separated for what, five minutes?

 _"Fuck's sake, he hasn't come back from war,"_ Harry wanted to mutter but he bit his tongue.

When Louis focused his attention back on Harry, he smiled half-heartedly but Harry didn't attempt to return the gesture. "Hi, Harry."

"Hey," Harry replied, but he was already shutting his books, getting ready to leave even though he'd just gotten there.

"You doing some study?" Louis asked, trying to keep the conversation going.

He was trying to keep Harry there, but Harry didn't want to stay and talk. Not with Greg and certainly not with Louis.

"I'll just...over there," Greg said, grabbing his book and pointing in the general area of the other side of the library. "It was good seeing you, Harry."

Harry nodded in response but didn't look up to watch him go. He was trying to stuff all of his belongings into his bag as fast as he could, and he could sense Louis', _I want to talk_ mood emanating off of him.

When Greg was gone, Louis reached out and took Harry's wrist. "Harry, stop. Can we talk?"

Harry jerked his hand back from Louis and when he finally made eye contact, his eyes were fierce because it was like the destruction of a dam. He hadn't seen Louis in months, he hadn't had him there and he'd been doing fucking _fine._ He didn't need to talk now. He didn't need to be checked up on or taken care of, not when he'd been doing it on his own for long enough. He didn't need him now. "What do you want to talk about, Louis?" he demanded with no genuine desire to hear a response. "Want to ask me how I'm doing? Give me a pep talk? Want to try and tell me to stay away from my boyfriend and my friends? Want to pry like your dear boyfriend?"

Louis was confused. "Greg? What did--"

"Yeah, Greg. Thinks he knows everything when he doesn’t know a damn thing." Harry shook his head, glaring at Louis. "Neither of you get it, do you? I want you to stay the fuck out of my life. What, do you two talk about me?"

Harry was beginning to raise his voice and Louis' eyes begged him to lower his voice. It annoyed Harry that the fire in Louis' eyes wasn't there.

Louis came around the table right to Harry's side. "Harry, please, calm down. I just want to talk. Can't we just talk?"

Harry shook his head. "Louis, my life is none of your business."

"If it's none of my business then why did you come to me that night?"

Harry opened his mouth, ready to say something else, _shout_ something else, but he found nothing. No words, no fury, nothing. That made Harry stop and he held onto his bag so tightly that the zipper left imprints in the palms of his hands. He had nothing to say so he just stared. At some point, he sat down, and he didn't know why or when. It was as if he'd lost control over his body and he was sitting and staring blankly ahead, avoiding Louis' eyes. He felt so tired all of a sudden, and his muscles felt like lead. He felt like he was fading into the back of his mind because he couldn't move a finger and all he wanted to do was sleep. Curl up somewhere warm, somewhere familiar and sleep, because all of his energy, his productivity to get something done, to study, dissipated.

Somewhere in the haze of things, Louis followed suit and took the seat right next to Harry's, crowding too close for comfort.

Louis' voice broke through his reverie. "Why did you come to me when you could've gone anywhere? I helped you that night. Don't act like you've forgotten. Don't act like I'm a stranger, Harry Styles, because you fucking know I'm not. I'm worried about you and I have every right to be. I'm allowed to give a damn about you."

Harry still hadn't moved, couldn't process anything Louis was saying, a million and one things rushing through his mind.

_Zayn. Another hit. Exams. Exams. Greg. Exams. Greg. Louis. Zayn. Exams. A drink. A smoke. Zayn. A pill. Liam. A pill. Liam. Liam. Liam._

And when Louis reached out a hand and settled it on Harry's knee, squeezing it to get his attention, Harry jolted as his mind screamed a million and one things at him, snapping him out of his daze.

Harry shoved Louis away and grabbed what he could and left before Louis could say anything, refusing the earnest look in Louis' eyes, the pity. He didn't want it, he didn't need it. Fuck them all because he had everything he needed. Zayn loved him, Zayn took care of him. Zayn didn't care about what a mess he was, Zayn didn't try to _fix_ him the way that Louis did. Zayn loved him the way he was and Liam watched over the both of them. Harry felt good with Zayn's life, he felt accepted and warm and taken care of.

So when he noticed his hands shaking as he had them clasped in his lap on the bus, he realised that it was time to feel warm again.

\--------------------------------------------------------------

When Harry got home, Zayn wasn't there. Harry hadn't expected him to be (he knew that Zayn was out working) but the little part in the back of his mind that tried to convince him that it wasn't Zayn's fault, that he _knew_ that this is what he'd most likely end up coming home to, Harry silenced with a furious growl as he threw his bag and books across the cold, empty apartment. He was shaking and the only warmth he felt were his tears as they fell, blurring his vision and making his temples pulse. He didn't know how long he cried for, he didn't know what he did during that time, but at some point, he must've fallen asleep because when he woke up, it was to soft kisses being pressed to his cheek.

Everything that had happened in the past few hours was nothing but a blank slate in Harry's mind, but he had a horrible headache accompanied by odd aches and bruises all over his body to remind him.

With his eyes still closed, feeling too sore to open, he mumbled, "Zayn," into the pillow as soft fingers brushed through his hair.

He remembered being angry at Zayn (that he couldn't forget) but it was gone now. Now he was just exhausted and he wanted Zayn to curl around him and lull him to sleep with his breathing. He wanted what warmth Zayn's slight frame provided and he wanted to be told that he was loved, wanted to be kissed, wanted to be _wanted_ but when he opened his eyes, and tried to shuffle closer, the person that was there wasn't Zayn.

Harry jerked and sat up, coming face-to-face with Liam. The first thing he could think, before anything else, was that something had happened to Zayn. Why else would Liam be there without him?

"Liam? What are you doing here--what's..." A lump grew in his throat. "Zayn?" was all he could get out as his heart hammered in his chest.

"He's working," Liam told him. He cupped Harry's cheek. "You need to stop worrying so much."

Harry let his eyes slip shut as he exhaled in relief. He nodded, shakily, and felt Liam brush his thumb over his cheekbone. When Harry finally managed to find his voice again, he asked, "What are you doing here?"

That question looked to rub Liam the wrong way because he removed his hand from Harry's face and said, "Zayn told me to come get you."

 _"Since when do you do what Zayn asks?"_ Harry wanted to say, but didn't. Couldn't.

All Harry could do was nod, but he couldn't get up. He laid back down and covered his face with his arm. Harry didn't say anything, and he couldn't move. This feeling was too familiar for his liking. This inability to move. This exhaustion. It had all begun to creep back in and Harry tried as hard as he could to fight, but he couldn't do it without Zayn. That's all his mind thrummed. A constant loop of, _I need Zayn,_ over and over.

"You look like hell," Liam said at one point, and Harry didn't know if seconds had passed or hours. He'd guessed the former because he doubted that Liam would just sit there staring at him blank out for so long.

Harry still couldn't say anything, didn't know what he could say, but when tears started to escape from the corner of his eyes, Liam looked alarmed. "Harry -- what's wrong?"

"Fuck," Harry muttered, but before he could lift his hand, Liam was already wiping the tears away.

"What's the matter, babe?" he asked, and his voice was soft. He sounded so concerned, that Harry didn't know which Liam he was looking at. And then he found that he didn't really care because all he wanted was for someone to give a damn about him in that moment, and Liam was there. Liam was there in the way that Zayn and Louis weren't. Liam was there and Harry had nobody else, and he wasn't afraid. The panic, the edge, it wasn't there. He was cold and he could feel the warmth of Liam's skin radiating onto his, and he could feel Liam's gentle fingers brush over his collarbone, and in that moment, all he wanted was for someone to love him.

Harry sat up and pulled Liam in for a kiss. It was tentative at first, a spur of the moment thing, and Liam was caught off guard.

When Harry pulled back, his heart hammering in his chest, it was like something snapped within him. Because when he looked into Liam's eyes, he got to watch them grow dark. Got to watch Liam's pupils become blown wide with desire, as if he'd taken something that had really hit the spot.

Liam's voice was husky when he murmured, "Harry," and tightened his grip where his hand found Harry's arm.

And that alone was enough to have Harry crash his lips back against Liam's, revelling in the pain of Liam's hold.

This kiss was nothing like the first, nothing like Liam's touches and voice mere seconds ago. It wasn't gentle and it wasn't careful, it was rough and immediately hungry. Liam didn't need to be asked twice and his eagerness only spurred Harry on, eradicating any chance of Harry backing out at the last second (but that was the last thing on his mind).

And the longer that Harry kissed him, he realised that the roughness had nothing to do with Liam -- it was all Harry. Harry was the one that was grabbing at Liam, fisting his hands into his hair. Harry was the one that bit at Liam's lower lip and pulled him to be _closer._ Harry was the one that straddled Liam and hurriedly pushed his shirt over his head, demanding skin. Harry was the one that moaned in Liam's ear to get him going, smirking when Liam growled and grabbed at his hips, holding him still as he pressed into Harry. Harry was the one that scratched and sucked at Liam's skin until it was peppered with bruises and scars.

Harry was the one that yearned for Liam's touch, and Liam was more than happy to oblige.

Sex with Zayn had never been this rough; not until that time that Harry had tried to instigate it to give Zayn what Liam did. Sex with Zayn had been a lot of things, things that made every sense of Harry's alight, but being with Liam awoke something else in Harry. And he didn't know if it was because he was trying to prove something or if it was because Liam really did bring out a different him, but whatever it was, it was rabid; wild. It demanded attention, it craved the heat, and Harry embraced this side of him whole-heartedly as he clung to Liam's hips and felt the sweat trickle down his back, the pain secondary as the pleasure washed over him.

This new side of him felt terrifyingly alive, like electricity, and Harry wanted to live in it forever because it killed the numbness within him.

When the climax crashed over them, Liam, too, was panting, and Harry took satisfaction in the way that his chest heaved against his own.

"Fuck," Liam had groaned when Harry had clambered off of him.

And that was all that Harry could think, too, as he turned in Liam's arms and mumbled against his skin, "Do you have anything?"

Liam looked too stunned to speak, and Harry liked that look on him. Liked the way that it made his skin prickle with power because if he could throw Liam off, then that was something.

Quickly enough, though, Liam was back and he was nodding. He reached over to his discarded jeans and pulled a little bag that had a few white pills in it, and took one out. He placed it on his tongue first and Harry knew what to do. He kissed Liam until he could feel the pill in his own mouth and swallowed it dry.

"Fuck, Styles," Liam swore again as he watched him. "You're just full of surprises, aren't you?"

"We probably should've taken it beforehand," Harry said, shrugging, not really paying attention, because the adrenaline from sex was beginning to wear off.

Harry got up and went to the bathroom to clean himself up, but as he did, he heard Liam follow. Liam came up behind him at the counter and snaked an arm around his waist. He pressed hard into Harry's back, growling into Harry's ear, "If I'd known you were that good, I would've taken you for myself."

But whatever Liam had given him was beginning to take effect, and he felt the electricity settle beneath his skin as a light hum. Liam didn't phase him, not after that. "Maybe you should've," he replied in an undertone, his eyes dark as he stared at Liam back in the mirror.

There was something about Liam that put him in this place that Harry had never been. This dark place full of smoke and heat, sharp angles and eyes filled with lust and desire. Harry used to think that this is where Zayn would take him, because Zayn's world was so different to his own, but now that he'd had a taste of Liam's world, he knew that Zayn's couldn't compare.

But then Liam turned him around and pressed him against the basin. Liam rested both hands on either side of Harry on the counter and asked, "Who were you crying over?"

Harry tilted his head, confused, but Liam was completely serious. Harry hadn’t expected anything from Liam after the sex. Wasn’t that all that Liam had wanted from him?

Liam raised his hand and cupped Harry’s face to hold his attention. "Well?"

Harry shrugged and could feel the tears stinging behind his eyes, but he didn’t want to cry again. Not in front of Liam. "Nobody. I ran into my ex. That's it."

Liam's gaze hardened. "Are you talking about that dick from the club that night?"

Harry shrugged and couldn’t help but lean into the touch when Liam brushed a thumb over Harry’s cheek. 

Liam exhaled heavily, as if he was trying to stifle fury, and a shiver rolled down Harry’s spine in anticipation until Liam pressed his forehead against Harry’s unexpectedly. He brushed a thumb over Harry’s lower lip. "I told you to come to me if you were having any problems, didn't I? Didn’t I tell you I'd take care of it?"

Harry nodded, nuzzling his face a little into Liam’s, liking the way that Liam felt there. Strong, solid, _real._

Liking the way that Liam was _there._

They stayed like that for a long while, breathing, and Harry let the pill dissolve into his bloodstream as it made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. Liam looked like he was going to say more, but instead, he leaned forward and captured Harry’s lips. Harry kissed him back and let out a muffled, little gasp when Liam hoisted him up and sat him on the basin. Harry wrapped his legs around Liam’s torso, melting into the heat of Liam’s presence, but then Liam pulled back. He stared at Harry, hard, and Harry didn’t know what to read in his eyes first. 

When Liam did speak, all he said was, “Let’s go. Zayn’s waiting for us.”

\--------------------------------------------------------------


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The other author (corruptedlungs) will no longer be working on this story, so it will only be myself (paralleltonone), and I know this update has been a long time coming, but I think it will be worth your while. I apologize for the delay and I ask that you please bear with me in the future as I will likely not update sporadically now that I'm writing it on my own.
> 
>  **TRIGGER WARNINGS:** This story contains drug use, domestic violence and mentions of depression and drug overdose. If any of these are triggering for you, please do not read any further and please, reach out to someone for help.

On a list of 99 problems, school ranked at number 1 through 98 for Harry. There were times when he wished he'd had half a mind to do what Zayn had done. Well, maybe he didn't wish that he'd been failing to point of completely flunking out before finally withdrawing, but he definitely wished he deferred his enrollment for a semester. Juggling school had been easy when he had Zayn's support, but now every time he picked up a book, there was Zayn pushing it away because he had other ideas of how Harry should spend his time or there was Liam with another pill for him to down or another party he insisted Harry be in attendance of. And when Harry got his midterm grades back, he definitely wished that he'd deferred for a semester.

“Hey, babe.” Zayn smiled at Harry as he stepped into the studio flat. “How’d class go? You doing okay? You look upset.”

Harry trudged further along in the open space to Zayn, offering up a gentle smile and a shake of his head as he replied, “I’m good.”

Leaning into the man seated on the sofa, Harry pressed his lips to Zayn’s in a light peck only to find himself being tugged down onto the sofa and into Zayn’s lap, the strap of his backpack sliding off with the increase in the intensity of their kiss.

“I missed you today,” Zayn murmured, breaking their kiss only momentarily.

Before Harry could respond, Zayn’s lips were on his again and his tongue was parting them for access to his mouth. Heated kisses were exchanged, hands roamed against bodies, and Harry almost lost himself to indulge Zayn in what he wanted in that moment before he was reminded of what it was that he needed to do before he got settled into the apartment and wouldn't want to leave again.

“Zayn…”

Zayn looked puzzled when Harry pulled back and his hand came up behind Harry’s neck, angling to pull him back to him, but Harry stopped him with a hand pressed to his chest.

“We can pick this up when I come back.”

“Come back? Where are you going?”

“I’m going to hurry to the store and get something for dinner,” Harry stated. “But once I come back home and finish cooking, it’ll be a me and you kind of night. Yeah?”

Reaching around Zayn, Harry grabbed for the jar that sat on the table behind the sofa, lifting the top and shoving his hand in only to remove a single pound from it.

“I ordered pizza the other day,” Zayn confessed when Harry lifted his gaze to him.

“Zayn, there was hardly anything in there! Just enough for a few groceries! We're supposed to be saving money!”

Harry scrambled from Zayn’s lap to stand, his face reddening with his shouting and his breathing coming out in heaves as he fumbled, trying to put the lid back onto the cookie jar.

“Har, chill-”

“Chill?! Zayn, how are we supposed to eat?!”

A knock to the door quieted Harry, and Zayn moved from the sofa to answer it, doing the same old song and dance routine they did every time the wooden door decided to get stuck. Zayn pulled and tugged, but it was a shove against it from the man on the other side that got it open, as often seemed to be the case.

“Where would we be without you, huh, Liam?” Zayn joked with a smile.

“What’s going on? I thought I heard screaming.”

“We can’t…we…”

If Harry’s upset hadn’t been noticeable before then it was definitely noticeable when he stood before Liam, taking strong, deep breaths in an attempt to calm himself and push back tears that were obviously threatening to fall.

“Harry, Harry, Harry...” Liam went over to The younger man, taking the ceramic lid and jar from his trembling hands and setting them where they belonged. “Calm down, Har,” Liam glanced at Harry’s hands, spotting the money, then looked back up to him. “Do you need money? Is that what’s wrong?”

“No,” Zayn quickly spoke up. “We’re fine.” Going over to them, Zayn tugged Harry away, and to him, digging into his pocket for the last of the cash he held on hand.

“Six pounds,” Zayn spoke with an undeserved sense of accomplishment. “That should cover dinner, right?”

“Six pounds?!”

Before Harry could descend back into the full panic mood he had found him in, Liam quickly reached into his own pocket and pulled out a wad of money to fit into Harry's palm, the sight enough to send an unexplainable shock of jealousy shooting throughout Zayn’s entire being.

“Liam, keep your money. I've got it covered,” Zayn nudged his hand away.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Zayn, you know it's not a problem.” Liam made sure Harry took ahold of the money he was handing over in the same fashion he’d done for Zayn for years, the same way he’d always taken care of him. “Go get whatever you need, Harry. Just relax, it's all right.”

Liam shooed him to the door in a manner that told Harry no more discussions were needed as Zayn looked on between them, his upset seething beneath the surface.

________________________________________________________________________

For the first time in a while, Harry actually shopped in a market. He went aisle by aisle, grabbing this that they needed and that that he wanted. He _shopped_ for the first time in a long while because, thanks to Liam, he could. He was browsing the boxes of cereal that lined the shelves, eyes almost wide with excitement over which brands and how many of his favorite food he would get when a voice calling his name broke his attention.

“Harry?” It was the soft-spoken voice of a woman that Harry recognized all too well, but he didn't respond to right away so she spoke again, “Har?”

Harry looked over, staring at the flower-printed flats on her feet and trailed his vision up until green eyes met nearly identical ones.

“Harry, it is you!”

The curly-haired brunette nearly knocked him to the floor when she ducked down to let her arms lock around him in a hug full of emotions Harry hadn't been on the receiving end of in some time. Isabel pulled back to look at him, her eyes skimming over his face before the gentle pads of her thumbs brushed against his cheeks.

“Har, where have you been? How have you been? I missed you so much.”

Harry stared back at Isabel, a woman only seven years his senior but who'd cared for him as if she were much older throughout the majority of his young life. Reaching up, he brushed away a strand of her chin-length hair.

“You cut your hair,” he remarked.

She shrugged with a smile, “Figured it was time for a change after all those years. Wouldn't you agree?”

“It's pretty.”

She stared at him a bit longer before she engulfed his small frame in another hug.

“I've missed you so much, baby bro.”

Harry couldn't reciprocate that emotion, though. Couldn't say that she'd been on his mind much, and neither had their parents, sister or her husband. They were the people he'd known as family for a large chunk of his life and they hadn't entirely become thoughts on his brain since the Christmas holidays. He had a family. He had a family that didn't judge or push or ask him for anything he couldn't give. But he wasn't going to tell her that.

“I missed you too, Izzy,” he smiled.

Almost as soon as the words left his mouth, Isabel's eyes lit up as her lips curved into a smile, and Harry was glad he hadn't shared the thoughts that'd been running through his mind, realizing how much his lie had meant to her.

“How have you been? I'm glad to see that you're eating well,” she said as they finally stood, glancing into Harry's nearly full basket.

“Oh, yeah...I've been eating really well. I'm doing good, Zayn is taking real good care of me.”

“And school?”

“School's coming along. I'm trying to keep a cool head so I don't get too stressed out. Sometimes, I get a little all over the place and then I'm just glad to have Zayn there to shake it out of me,” Harry chuckled.

“So, I guess Zayn is doing okay too then...that's nice.”

Harry could hear the disdain laced within Isabel's words and knew her feelings were nothing short of what the rest of his family felt for Zayn. They'd met him only twice, and his name was a heavy topic of every conversation involving Harry when he spent the holidays at home, a topic that led to one conclusion: Harry was better off without Zayn.

“Hey! How about you come to Sunday Roast at the house? It'll be fun.”

Harry knew what a dinner among his family would bring. He knew the things they'd say. He knew the insinuations they'd make. He knew the worrying they'd do. He knew what would happen, and that knowledge was what almost made him shout “no”, but her face edged a different response from his brain and through his lips.

“I can come for a little while, I guess. I don't know how long I can stay, but I'll drop in, sure.”

The emerald plea-filled gaze she stared at him with quickly lit up as she broke into a grin.

“5:00, Har. Here.” She reached into her purse and pulled out a business card, pushing it into his palm. “I know you tend to make your own way around, but call my cell if you need a ride or anything, babe.” Looking up, Isabel looked him over again for only a moment before her arms were wrapped around him. “It was so good to see you, Harry.”

“You too,” he mumbled, inching away only to feel a touch to his shoulder.

“I really hope to see you again Sunday...please.”

Isabel's last word trailed at the end of her sentence at a whisper and then she was gone back up the aisle and out of sight. Harry looked down to the gold rectangle in his hand:

  
**Styles by Styles**   


Isabel Styles, owner

His eyes focused on the image of pink scissors that decorated the blank space above the sparkling cursive as he stared at the card and then down to the address and numbers in the bottom corners. Fishing around in his pocket, he pulled out his cell phone, opened an application and set a reminder: _Sunday, 5:00 – dinner w/ the Styles._

________________________________________________________________________

It began as nothing Harry expected. It started with being greeted at the door by loving parents who’d missed their only son ( _“I’m so happy you came. We’ve missed you, baby boy.” “I’m glad to see you, son, it’s been a long time.”_ ). It started with hugs from sisters and a brother-in-law who saw them making up for lost time ( _“Hey, I could maybe rent that film we were supposed to go see and we can watch it at my house? Pop some popcorn?”_ ). It started with a guest Harry never would have thought he’d see there, but his family loved ( _“Harry, look! Louis is here! We can eat now!”_ ).

There was peaceful conversation amongst the table filled with serving dishes of mashed potatoes, roast and gravy, and vegetables ( _“How’s school been?” “Are you still doing work study at the library?” “You trimmed your hair differently, I like it, makes you look older.”_ ). The atmosphere was light during clean up, everyone all talked out from dinner and dessert, leaving dishes clinging together to be the only sound that resonated through the rooms. It was quiet until the ringing doorbell broke that calm.

Harry was happy to be home. He had busied himself with reorganizing the dining room, putting away the décor and ornate settings his mother had taken out for the dinner. He’d been focusing so hard on his task that he hadn’t noticed his father’s presence in the room until the old man cleared his throat. Turning around, Harry almost felt as if he’d seen a ghost with the way he froze up. Then, the entire ambience in the room, within the house, changed and Harry was no longer happy to be there.

On a list of bad ideas, this ranked somewhere among the top five, at the very least. Coming to a dinner for their family definitely ranked on a list of bad ideas, and that was confirmed for him as his father was joined by a man he hadn't seen since he'd prescribed Harry a new set of pills he'd given up just two months after beginning them. It was confirmed when his mother sadly walked in to press a hand to his shoulder, urging him to sit. It was confirmed when the rest of his family and Louis came into the dining room and settled around it, as if they knew what was taking place, and…they did. They all knew what was going on even if the only thing Harry knew what that this was a terrible idea. His eyes zoomed straight in on the one person who seemed out of the place, the one tucked away against the corner of a wall who didn't seem to want to be there.

“Lou? What’s going on?”

But Louis didn't answer before the family's patriarch spoke up, “Harry, you're coming home.”

________________________________________________________________________

For well over two hours, there was a back and forth chorus of shouting and insults that nearly crushed whatever confidence Harry may have built up and made him want to burn the house down with all of them in it simply to defend Zayn's honor. For well over two hours, his parents and former doctor hurled demands and expectations at him that Harry knew he couldn't adhere or live up to.

Over two hours until Harry could take no more and tried to find solace in the room he’d called his for nineteen years, a room that’d served as his only little slice of peace in the otherwise overwhelming cluttered life he led until he made a home with Zayn, and found a new paradise. The tiny studio on the east end was paradise, and the man who welcomed him there was the reason for every bit of Harry’s happiness; he wasn’t going to abandon that. Not for them or anyone else.

In the room, Harry paced. He took deep breaths. He did all of those tips and tricks this doctor and that doctor had given him over the years to help him calm. What he wanted, he didn’t have, and not one of those people downstairs would allow him a way out of that front door to go get it.

Back and forth from one side of the room to the other, from the closet doors to the head of his former bed, he thought of the men whom he knew would never let him ache like this, would never let him feel like this without doing what they could to make it better. The wheels in his brain that spun only to think of them stopped, though, with a knock to the door.

“I don’t want to talk,” Harry replied.

“I know you don’t, but I do, so let me in…please.”

Harry recognized that voice and if it’d been any other, he wasn’t so sure he would have even edged toward that door the way he did. Opening the door, his eyes made contact with Louis’ before he turned to have a seat on his bed. Louis stepped in, shutting the door with his entrance and he settled down to the bed next to Harry.

“Harry-”

“No.”

“Will you just let me finish my sentence before you cut me off?” Louis sighed.

“No, because I know you’re going to side with them, and they’re wrong, Lou.”

“Harry, they’re your family. They only want what's best for you, and they just...they see a change in you and they don't like it,” Louis reached out to touch at his thigh. “I want what’s best for you too.”

“No,” Harry shook his head with his words. “Family looks out for one another, loves each other all time. Zayn and Liam love me and I need them, Louis, and they need me. We’re happy. If that’s not what’s best for me, then I don’t know what is,” Harry spoke tearfully. “ _They’re_ my family.”

Louis listened to the tone of Harry's voice, full of an agony he'd never heard him emit. He let blue eyes skim Harry's body, markings present that'd never been there before. He looked up to let his face meet Harry's, his skin abnormally pale. Still, Louis saw past all that to see that Harry was content where he was. He was happy and he didn't want to change things. Louis couldn't understand it, but Harry wanted to go back to Zayn, wanted to go back to Liam. Maybe even _needed_ to go back to the two men. He needed to go back in that moment, but Louis was sure it wouldn’t be that way forever.

“Harry...” Louis paused as he ran a hand over his face, not wanting to speak his next words. “I love you, and I want nothing but the best for you. I want you to be happy.” Louis swallowed back tears that'd started to swell in his chest, reaching over to run slender fingers through Harry's curls as he murmured to him, “And if being there with them is what makes you happy then you should go back. I’ll-I….I’ll even bring you back.”

Louis couldn't hold back his tears then, and he pulled Harry in close to him, pressing their foreheads together. Harry's thin arms wrapped around Louis' middle and he curled into him.

“Thank you, Lou,” Harry whispered.

Louis' soft voice was broken, weak as he murmured, “I just want you to be happy.” Louis’s last words fell one deaf ears, his voice so low that even Harry hadn’t heard him say, “Not with Zayn, though…not with Zayn.”

________________________________________________________________________

Harry was having one of his bad days. It was one of those days when he was feeling at his worst, and it was blatantly obvious to Zayn and anyone who would cross paths with him. He blamed it on his last interaction with his family, another attempt to fix him when he wasn't broken. Harry was fine; he didn't need them, didn't need their idea of help. He wasn’t broken until they fractured him and he returned to Zayn to let him pick up the pieces and make him whole again.

Zayn hated to leave that late morning, and when Harry clung to him at the front door with whispers begging him not to go, he almost didn't. Harry falling back off to sleep before Zayn made a phone call to Liam in which he promised to drop by and check on Harry was what finally got him up and out of the door to his usual stomping grounds. When he returned home that afternoon, he couldn't be angry at the sight before him. In fact, it was a slight relief to see that Harry seemed so contented. Slowly moving over to the closed up futon where Liam lay with Harry draped across him, he kept his movements quiet in an effort not to wake the sleeping men.

Harry looked completely at peace with his head against Liam's shoulder, soft and unruly curls falling into his face. Liam looked just as calmed, as if he was finally having a restful sleep after months of going without, and Zayn felt a pang of guilt hit at him with that thought because he knew that Liam hadn't slept well. He hadn't slept well since Zayn and Harry started dating because Zayn wasn't there with him anymore. Zayn smiled a bit as he watched them sleep, watched the way that Harry was seemingly filling that void that Zayn's absence left within Liam.

Zayn tried to keep quiet, but the low rustling of the bags of food he carried into the kitchen had them both stirring. “Hey, sleepyheads, “ he teased as they came awake. “I brought you guys something to eat.”

Zayn heard the squeaking of the futon as they moved on it and he glanced up from behind the breakfast bar, sure that his eyes weren't playing tricks on him when Harry leaned in to kiss at Liam's temple, rubbing a hand over his short hair. Zayn's thoughts quickly faded, though, when Harry started walking to the kitchen, beaming at him.

“Glad to see you're feeling better,” Zayn smiled, melting into Harry's touch as he hugged him from behind, his arms engulfing Zayn's shorter frame.

“He's all right now; all cried out and relaxed.” Liam ruffled Harry's curls, stepping into the kitchen with them.

“Yeah,” Harry grinned. “Liam took care of me.”

“Good,” Zayn looked at Liam, leaning in to press a kiss to his lips. “Thank you. I just hope you haven't been taking care of him _too_ much.”

“What's that supposed to mean?” Liam questioned with furrowed brows.

“I mean, I know you two are getting close and that's fine...”

“You have a lot of nerve,” Harry snorted, stepping back from his boyfriend. “How many times have you let yourself be taken care of while I sat in another room and waited until it was over?”

“What? Harry, I-”

“He makes me feel good when you're not here, which has been a lot lately, if you haven’t noticed.”

“Guys, you both need to chill-” Liam began, but Zayn cut into his words.

“You know what? I don’t care if you want to go that route with him. He’s only taking you because I’m not there, so go ahead. It'd be nice if you had the decency to ask my permission first, though.”

“Permission?! I don't need your goddamn permission.” Harry glared.

“I’m sorry, who do you belong to again?”

“Go to hell, Zayn. You couldn't even begin to function without me, and you know damn well that I’m the best thing that’s ever happened to you. So next time you decide to tell me what to do, remember who the fuck owns you.” Harry retorted, rendering Zayn speechless. “Come on, Liam, I need to get out of here.”

Harry tugged at the sleeve of Liam's shirt, pulling him along and out of the kitchen, giving him a few moments to make sure he had everything he'd come with before he was yanking him out of the flat, Liam giving Zayn an apologetic look on their way out.

Zayn knew it was only out of courtesy, though. Liam was not sorry.

________________________________________________________________________

Liam wasn’t sorry, and as the weeks passed, it became obvious that Harry wasn’t either. Harry clung to Liam in a way that Zayn recognized far too well, and Liam took him under his wing in a manner that Zayn never thought he’d be witness to. It was akin to watching his own life at 17 playing out in front of him four years after the fact. 17, falling into the charms of a boy several years his senior. 17, and helping that boy build an empire of his own where he didn’t live in the shadow of men who’d done more or less the same under the mask of late nights, bright lights and crowded dance floors.

Four years ago, he’d been 17 when Liam told him everything he wanted to hear, gave him everything he longed for and everything he didn’t know he needed until he had it. He’d been 17 when Liam loved him, and was the first person who’d ever cared about him in his life. Now, Harry – his boyfriend, _his_ Harry – was on the receiving end of everything Liam had to offer, including everything he couldn’t offer Zayn in the beginning. For Zayn to say it didn’t hit at him hard would have been a lie. It hurt like hell watching the way Harry curled into Liam for comfort, the way Liam’s entire demeanor changed with a request from Harry he wouldn’t hesitate to heed to, the way Liam showered Harry with attention, the way Liam _loved_ Harry.

But four years ago, Zayn had been in Harry’s position. He’d been there and seen it all, and he knew nothing gold could stay, especially when it came to Liam Payne. Liam was a business man, above all.

With arms folded, Zayn leaned back against the breakfast bar off of Liam’s living room as he watched the visual standoff taking place between Liam and Harry with a smirk playing on his lips.

“What'd you say?” Liam snarled, looking in the direction of the leather sofa where Harry was seated.

Zayn chuckled bitterly, “You heard him; he said he's not fucking doing it.”

“Shut up, Zayn,” Liam spat, his tone more than enough to cause Zayn to shrink back against the counter and keep quiet. “I am going to give you money for the train, and you are going to take this to-”

“No.”

Harry's repeating of that word for the fourth time was it, and that finally set Liam off. In fact, Zayn was surprised he'd lasted so long; he never even got that many chances. Moving in closer to Harry, Liam grabbed him up from the couch by the collar of his shirt and green eyes widened as they set straight on brown.

“Anything you’ve ever asked of me I’ve done for you. Tell me 'no' again and, not only will there be no more favors given to you, but it will be the last fucking thing you ever say to me,” Liam warned, his voice low and rough. “Now…tell me what you're going to do.”

His voice trembling, Harry stammered over his words before he swallowed and murmured, “Take the train to Josh's to bring him this stuff then I'm going to take the train downtown to the club and wait for you and Zayn there.”

“Good boy, I really need your help this time and Zayn says you can do it and I trust you to take care of this for me, okay?” Liam grinned before pressing a soft kiss to Harry's lips. “You’re family and I love you, you know that right?” Harry nodded and Liam shook his head, “You're not going to disrespect me, though.”

With another nod of his head, Harry glanced to Zayn over Liam's shoulder, expecting worry or pity on his face, but found nothing but amusement. Pure amusement.

________________________________________________________________________

It was a miracle that Harry had made it to train platform in one piece with everything he’d come with. He’d frantically crossed streets and narrowly avoided death, he’d dropped his change at the ticket booth and fumbled over the floor to find it all, he’d struggled to do something as simple as push through the turnstile, something simple that left him with an inexplicable throbbing in his side.

He made it to the train platform as whole as he’d left Liam’s flat with the grey and black messenger bag he’d left with. He guarded the bag like a Rottweiler would do a piece of real estate as he settled amongst the crowds of people even though no one gave him a second glance, or so he thought.

“Excuse me, son…”

Harry turned in the direction of the voice behind him to face a police officer.

“Is everything okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine. Thank you for the concern,” Harry said and quickly turned away from the officer, but the man didn’t leave.

“It’s just that you seem a little shaken up. You sure nobody’s bothering you or nothing?”

“I’m sure,” Harry sighed, unconsciously clutching the bag closer to his person.

The officer’s brown eyes glanced down to the bag at Harry’s side, his slender fingers locked on it tightly, then back up to Harry as he spoke again, “May I have a word with you?”

“I-I-I don’t have time to talk, really. I’ll be late…for school.”

“It’ll only take a minute,” the officer motioned for him to follow.

Harry took a glance around his surroundings and reluctantly tagged along behind the officer, heading in the direction of a more secluded spot where another officer stood. Then, Harry’s nerves got the best of him and he suddenly paused behind the officer. Completely stilled, his mind raced with one thought and one thought only: _Don’t run, Harry. Don’t fucking run._ His brain screamed at him, shouted for him not. to. run. His brain yelled at every part of him except his nervous system, though, because there was Harry, turning on his heels and sprinting down the platform.

________________________________________________________________________

“He doesn’t hate you.”

Considering that he found himself on the receiving end of nothing but piercing brown-eyed glares and not an ounce of the affection he was accustomed to, to him, Zayn’s words were pure lies. He glanced up again and saw the back of the maroon jumper Liam wore then looked back to the cracked pavement below as they made the trek to where Liam parked.

With a rub to Harry’s shoulder, Zayn mumbled, “He’s upset because, you know, all of that other stuff, but he doesn’t hate you.”

”Other stuff” meant having to call a connection who seemed less than thrilled with changing Harry’s charge to a mere summary offence, losing several hundred pounds worth of cocaine to an evidence locker, and being inconvenienced by having to drive nearly clear across the city to pick Harry up. “Other stuff” meant all of those things Harry had caused out of pure stupidity. “Other stuff” was everything Harry made happen all because he ran.

Harry turned to Liam as they reached the car, “Li, I’m so sorry…”

Liam didn’t respond, only stared at Harry wordlessly as he opened the door. With a defeated sigh, Harry climbed into the backseat. He’d only glanced away for a moment to put his seatbelt on, but a push that shook the SUV had him glancing up and out of the window, being met with the sight of a pained Zayn opened the passenger side door and sliding into the car. If Harry hadn’t gotten the gist of what’d happened before, he certainly understood once Liam was in the car and Zayn opened his mouth to speak.

“Liam, he didn’t mean it. It was his first-”

Fast as lightening, it’d seemed, Zayn’s head hit the window beside him, sending a heavy thud resounding throughout the otherwise quiet vehicle. It didn’t stay quiet for long, though.

“Shut up, Zayn! This is all your fucking fault! ‘He can do it, Liam. He’ll have it under control.’ £3500 under control, Zayn!” Liam shouted before he delivered blow after blow to the man seated beside him with each word he spoke. “I. Am. Out. 3500. Pounds.” Reaching over, Liam grabbed at Zayn’s jacket to tug him in close to him as he threatened, “Cry, I fucking _dare_ you to. If you cry, I will punch you in the face again so hard that no one will know who you are tomorrow.”

From his spot, Harry could see Zayn’s entire body tense as he tried hard not to shed a single tear, but it’d proved to be futile when Zayn let out a soft whimper that earned him a shove against his head, pushing it against the cold glass again. That time, Harry barely heard the thud over the wounded noise his boyfriend let out.

“You know what? I’m not doing this with you in front of Harry; I’m not going to do that to him because this was not his fault. It’s yours and I’m going to settle this with you in private.”

With those words, Liam pulled away from the curb, but it wasn’t until they got to his flat where Liam demanded that Harry sit on the sofa and don’t move as he shoved Zayn into his bedroom that Harry understood those words. Liam was furious, that much was obvious. Blind with a rage Harry had never seen him possess and Zayn, Zayn was in serious trouble. Harry had done wrong, but Zayn was paying the piper.

He sat almost frozen on the sofa, unable to move or do anything but listen to the music that flowed through the headphones Liam equipped him with. _Thump._ Harry moved then, turning up the volume on the iPod and letting the sound blast into his ears to shift focus from the other noise around him. He wasn't sure what track came after the other or what he was hearing because he couldn't keep his attention on any of it. None of it was loud enough to block out the older man's shouting or stop the frightened shivers that ran up and down his spine with the pounding against the back of the door.

As the playlist moved to the next song, Harry could hear Zayn's choked sobs through the brief silence, and that was the moment when he'd heard enough. Yanking the device from his ears and tossing it onto the sofa, Harry scurried to his feet and to Liam's bedroom where he pulled up the unlocked door, sending it into the two men behind it.

“Liam, stop! Please! It's not his fault!”

Still, Harry’s pleas and his actions as he grabbed at Liam's hands in attempts to pull them from Zayn's neck did nothing. This was nothing like the last time he'd seen them in this position. His touch to Liam's arm didn't calm him down or make him stop. It didn't keep Liam from shoving Zayn down to the bed with his fingertips steadily pressing into his throat as he screamed about how much money he'd lost with Harry's arrest amidst his words of anger over the fact that Zayn should have done it himself as he always did. None of what Harry did helped, didn’t give his boyfriend any reprieve.

Zayn writhed and sobbed beneath Liam, but did little fighting back. He didn't beg him for mercy, didn’t try to shove Liam away, did little to shield the blows that Liam delivered. He just took it. He got bruised and his breathing drew shallow, and he just took it. That’s when Harry realized that this was nothing new. Liam had laid into him and tossed him around like a ragdoll before, and Zayn let it happen. Kept hope alive that Liam wouldn’t kill him, just fucking took it and let it happen. Harry wasn’t going to do that.

Climbing onto the bed with them, Harry shoved Liam, stunning him enough to make him stop his assault on the smaller man. For only a moment, Harry saw a flicker of the Liam he’d first met staring back at him, but that moment was fleeting. Zayn shifted to sit up, prepared to defend Harry, but it was obvious that Harry was in no need.

“Liam,” Harry whispered, reaching out to let his fingers brush against Liam’s hand as gentle tears fell down his cheeks. “That’s enough…”

Zayn relaxed against Harry, eyelids drooping as he panted softly, but before his exhaustion and the moment could overtake him, he heard a low whisper from Harry that finally got Liam away from him, a whisper that cut him deeper than it should have.

“Just stop…for me…”

________________________________________________________________________

Zayn stayed home the next day, didn't move from their futon except to limp and shuffle to the bathroom then masked his two black eyes with sunglasses for two days after that when he decided to rejoin the outside world. In the entirety of those three days, Harry kept his distance. He'd learned midway through day one that talking to Zayn would give him no conversation in return and that every apology he spoke was falling on deaf ears. So, Harry made his schoolwork his solitary focus. At least for two of those three days, he did.

He studied as if it were a time before he'd met Zayn, that time in his life when his mind was steadfastly set on nothing but his education. It was Thursday when Liam decided he wasn't upset with him anymore, and when he came around that third day, Harry's mind raced with thoughts he hadn't had for over 48 hours: _Liam_. _Pills_. _Zayn_. _Liam_. _White_. _Zayn and Liam_. _Family_. They were thoughts that trampled all others and shooed them out, screaming flashes of colors and sounds and emotions he couldn't see, but longed to feel. That third day, Liam came around just for him and Harry fell into him as if a distance between them never existed.

Harry didn’t return to Zayn that third day. That third day, he fell into Liam as if a distance between them never existed and into every aspect of his world that Liam opened up to Harry. He spent the night tucked against his side, possessed by him. He willingly accepted every drop of intoxicating liquid and every line of powder Liam gave up to him. He let those inebriants fade from his system as the night came to a close without want for more in order to feel Liam like their first time, to really _feel_ him without the influences his body had craved earlier that night. He fell into Liam in a way he hadn’t before. Liam took Harry that third day and treated him as if he was the only thing that existed in his life, and Harry reciprocated that as if Liam was the only one in his…even if the next day provided a reminder that that wasn’t so.

________________________________________________________________________

“GET UP.”

Harry couldn’t remember the last time he’d been pulled from his sleep so abruptly, but he had to think it wasn’t nearly as harsh as the wake-up call he and Liam got from Zayn.

“GET THE FUCK UP, BOTH OF YOU. GET OUT OF BED _NOW_.”

“Zayn, the fuck is your problem?”

“You’re my fucking problem, Liam!”

Harry blinked open his eyes then, turning his head in the direction of the voices, and spotted Liam pulling on a pair of sweat pants as he stood face-to-face with a slightly battered Zayn who, from the sounds of it, wasn’t too far from having old wounds reopened if he didn’t shut his mouth. Harry quickly moved off of the bed and positioned himself between Liam and Harry.

“Stop, stop, stop. Calm down, please,” Harry huffed in agitation, ignoring his complete lack of clothes until Zayn grabbed his jeans he’d been wearing the night before and shoved them at him.

“You’re telling me to calm down when you didn’t come home last night just so you could get high and get a little bit of Liam’s attention? Newsflash, Harry, you’re my boyfriend...at least, that’s what I thought.”

“Zayn…” Harry finished with the button on his jeans and reached out to Zayn, the gesture being met with a cold shoulder from Zayn as he tugged away.

“You’re overreacting, Z. Harry and I are just having fun,” Liam shrugged before his lips curved into a smirk that spoke volumes to Zayn as he said, “Remember when we used to have fun _all_ the time?”

“I’m going to kill you,” Zayn glared, stepping towards Liam, but Harry intervened.

“Zayn.”

Zayn turned to face Harry then and he couldn’t shake the wave of emotions that came over him in that moment as he looked at him. So many people spoke of how much he’d changed, but Zayn saw the same Harry he’d taken for chicken and fries at McDonald’s, the same Harry he’d captured in photos to be played out to an audience of their peers, the same Harry he’d decided very early on that he wanted to love forever. _Forever and a day_.

“This isn’t fair,” Zayn whispered, voice cracking, “I get the best thing that’s ever happened to me and Liam just dives in and snatches you away.”

“Hey, Pot,” Liam scoffed. “Meet Kettle.”

“What?” Zayn turned to him.

“Four years, Zayn,” Liam murmured. “For four fucking years, it was me and you. I only cared about two people in this entire world: myself and you. Your dad had tossed you out on the fucking streets so I let you live with me then I got you your own place because you said the constant parties here were fucking with your studying, and I didn’t want to see you flunk out of school. When you OD’d that time, I brought you to the hospital and helped you get better when you came home. Everything you have, I’ve given you. Everything you want or need, I make sure you get. For four years, it was me and you, and all of a sudden, it became me and you…and Harry.”

“So, is that what all of this is about? Revenge?” Zayn snorted. “You fooling around with Harry just to get back at me? Are you that angry that I wanted to find a relationship, a real relationship with someone who cares for me and who will commit to me that you would take advantage of him that way? Being your ‘friend’ got old, Liam.”

“It’s not about revenge,” Liam shook his head, breaking eye contact with Zayn.

“Well, what is it about, Liam?” Zayn questioned firmly. “It’s not about love. The only person you love is yourself. Is it about sex? I wasn’t giving you enough of that? I wasn’t paying for all the lovely little things you give me often enough?”

With another shake of his brown-haired head, Liam turned and walked from the room, ignoring Zayn as he yelled after him.

“Oh, I know! I wasn’t being a good guinea pig every time you got new shit in!”

Harry frowned as he tugged his lower lip between his teeth, part of him floored at the bevy of new information their exchange had provided him with while another part of him felt guilt hitting at his insides like it was the heavyweight champion of the world. This was his fault. Liam and Zayn were happy, and then, he came along.

“I’m sorry…” Harry whispered, lowering his head. “I’m so sorry, Zayn. I love you so much, I swear I love you.”

“No, it’s cool, Harry.” Zayn shrugged. “I get it, I really do. Liam is…he’s Liam, you know? There’s just something about him; he makes you feel like you’re on top of the world. It’s a good feeling and I’m glad he could make you feel like that when I couldn’t.”

Harry looked up to the other man, “But you do make me feel like that, Zayn. You make me the happiest I’ve ever been in my entire life.”

“So, why Li?”

“Because you kept picking him over me.”

“What are you talking about?”

“We were always with Liam because you wanted to be, and sometimes I felt like you _needed_ to be around him; we went to his parties and you were with Liam while I just stood on the side watching the two of you until you disappeared to who knows where; you left for hours all the time to work, for Liam,” Harry said.

“To take care of us, Harry-” Zayn began, but Harry cut him off.

“And the one time I really, really needed you, you were working, but you sent him to check up on me, and it just happened because Liam was _there_. Then I noticed that Liam was always there, and it kept happening, and I let it happen.”

“If you wanted attention, you didn’t have to get it from the one person who doesn’t give a damn about you.”

“Liam wouldn’t be the first person who’s ever used me,” Harry sighed. “And I know that he will never care about me the way that I’ve known he cares about you since that first day I met him, but…that doesn’t bother me. You go off and do your thing and I just, sometimes I just need someone there, and he’s there for me.” Harry shook his head as he spoke again, “But he hasn’t taken me away from you. I’m here with you until you don’t want me to be anymore, and even then, it’ll be a fight to make me leave.”

“I don’t want you to leave me,” Zayn reached out to pull Harry in close to him, wrapping his arms around him. “I don’t even want you to think about it.”

“Good,” Harry said lowly, returning the embrace. “Because I don’t want to leave.”

Harry wasn’t sure how long he and Zayn stayed posted like that before Zayn was pressing a kiss to his cheek and stepping away to Liam’s balcony off of his bedroom for a cigarette, but he took the small break of time away from Zayn to find his shirt before he went to seek Liam out, finding him on the living room sofa. Harry took slow steps toward him that apparently didn’t go unnoticed by Liam.

“I wasn’t using you,” Liam spoke before Harry could even approach, his back to the younger man.

“Huh?”

“I heard you and Zayn talking…and he’s wrong, Harry, and so are you.”

“Liam, it’s okay, really. I don’t expect to mean anything to you-”

“That’s not okay for you to feel that way, especially when…fuck it, nevermind,” Liam stood from the sofa and headed in the direction of the kitchen.

“No, say it. Please?” Harry was pleading in that tone that hardly ever failed to get Liam or Zayn to give into him.

“You do mean something to me, Harry,” Liam turned to him. “You and Zayn, both do. You mean a lot to me. Zayn – Zayn’s just…”

“I know, he’s a moron,” Harry mumbled. “You love him and he doesn’t even know it.”

“I- Harry, that’s not what I said.”

“You didn’t have to.”

“I didn’t mean…” Liam began only to fall back into silence.

“He loves you too, a lot,” Harry smiled at him. “And so do I.”

“Harry.”

“We’re family. We’re supposed to love one another.”

Liam just stared back at Harry for a long moment, eventually breaking into a smile of his own when Harry’s dimples came into view with his. Moving in closer to the curly-haired man, Liam wrapped his arms around Harry in a tight hug, kissing along the side of his face.

It wasn’t long before Zayn finished his cigarette and moved to stand in the doorway separating the bedroom and the living room with arms crossed, watching the two men before him. Liam pulled back from Harry just barely and turned to Zayn, locking gazes with him as Zayn glared back. Liam didn’t say a word; he just kept his vision set on Zayn as if the two of them were in some sort of silent battle until Zayn slowly trudged from the doorway to them where he allowed Liam to wrap his free arm around him and whisper words in his ear that Harry couldn’t hear, but that had Zayn beaming from ear-to-ear.

Moving from them, Zayn went to Liam’s entertainment center, reaching beneath it for a box hidden there and pulled out a small baggie from that box. He went to the sofa where he made himself comfortable and motioned them both over. Liam tugged Harry along to join Zayn on the sofa, pulling the younger man down onto his lap. Zayn reached into the bag, pulling one of the pills from it to press against Harry's lips. Without hesitation, Harry accepted the small blue tablet before reaching into the bag for another to place on his tongue, leaning into Zayn. Their lips locked momentarily as they traded off the pill, and when they broke apart, Zayn motioned to the brunette settled in with them.

“Liam…” Harry grinned as he retrieved another sphere from the bag.

“Nah,” Liam shook his head.

“Come one, just this once?” Zayn pleaded, tugging his lower lip between his teeth as he looked at the older man. “It's not fair for us to have all the fun without you.”

Liam looked between them warily, and Harry grinned.

“Come on, Li, open wide.”

________________________________________________________________________

As the sunlight poured into the room and spread over his face, waking him, Harry knew something was...different. The plush cushions he lay against were a stark contrast to the futon he was accustomed to. The air wasn't too cold or too hot. The sheets were soft, so soft that Harry almost wanted to open his eyes just to be sure he wasn't sleeping on a cloud.

He did open his eyes, eventually, and found himself surrounded by white. As expected, it didn't rest against a sky but against Liam's king-sized bed frame. As his vision evened out, he was also met with the sight of the two sleeping men on both sides of him...and their obviously nude bodies. Harry’s mind flashed with bits and pieces of what the throbbing pain in his throat and throughout his body was trying to remind him of, of the way the three of them relished in one another over the course of the day until it turned to night as if an imaginary spark between them all had been set off.

He ached. Really, really ached. His head was pounding and even keeping his eyes open seemed like too much work for him. Still, Harry kept them open as he moved to sit up in bed, his actions slow and careful but futile as he still felt the pain echo throughout his body. A glance over to the mirrored wall Liam's bed was poised alongside gave Harry a good insight into the night before, and maybe even the last few months of his life.

He barely recognized himself: limbs thinner than they'd ever been, darkened circles beneath green eyes, curls tousled every which way, abrasions here and there adding bits of color to blanched skin.

Bruises, bites, scratches. So many markings, different shapes and sizes, finger imprints around his neck and against his hips and arms that they'd left on him. They were all traces of them marking him as theirs, reminding him of who he belonged to, where he belonged, who loved him more than anything and anyone else.

They had their world filled with beautiful people who threw their lives away, people like Harry. They had their world filled with hazy memories of moments in time, memories of things Harry sometimes wished he could keep. They had their world filled with colors and lights and booming sounds that colored in the grays and resounded through the silence in Harry's life. They had their life and they'd made Harry part of it, made him theirs. Their world was his and it was where he belonged, and he didn't need to recognize the man in the mirror anymore because he wasn't who he used to be.

He was theirs and that was all that mattered.

“Har...”

Looking in the direction of his name, a smile formed on Harry's face as he saw Zayn's eyes open. He shifted slightly, ignoring the pain he felt to straddle his waist and lay down against him with his head on Zayn's shoulder.

“Is something wrong?” Zayn murmured, reaching up to run his fingers through Harry's hair, pressing gentle kisses to his temple.

Harry shook his head, “No, everything's fine.” Looking up to Zayn, his lips curved into another smile, “Everything is perfect.”

________________________________________________________________________

“Seriously, Lou? We’re just barely into March and you’re planning for a graduation party?” Niall laughed, looking over the invitation in his hand that tied right into the island-themed party Louis had in mind.

“This month is going to fly by, we won’t even notice April, and then – boom – May. I don’t think it’s too early to start planning.”

“Have you given out all of your invites yet?” Niall questioned as tucked the invitation back into its envelope then refocused his attention back to the work on the table in front of him.

“Well…” Louis shrugged. “I’ve put a lot of others in the mail. I still need to find another address or two so I can get those invites out.”

Niall caught Louis’ tone even though he spoke barely above a whisper then.

“You thinking about inviting Harry?” Niall looked up from his notebook.

Louis sighed, “It’s just…I’d feel bad if I didn’t. He’s going through some stuff right now, but he’s still my best friend.”

“Louis, he’s not going through anything. Harry’s changed.”

“Niall, no…”

“Face it, he’s changed. Harry used to have his priorities all in line. The last few times I saw him, we couldn’t have a two-minute conversation without Zayn’s name making an appearance. He’s not the same Harry, Lou.”

“He’s just having a tough time right now. He’ll get through it.”

“I think you’re counting on something to happen that never will, Lou. He’s not going to just up and do a 180.” Niall sighed, shaking his head, “I wish I’d never told him to go to that thing.”

“Niall, there’s no way you could have thought him finding someone new would lead to all of this…and you were being a good friend by pushing him towards what you thought was a good thing. I keep thinking that maybe if I was as supportive of him as you were then maybe he would have realized that he didn’t need Zayn to feel loved.”

“If I’d never kept poking at him to go to that show, he wouldn’t have ever been with Zayn at all.”

“Look, Niall, don’t worry,” Louis left out a heavy breath. “I know Harry, okay? And I know that he’s going to get tired of all of Zayn’s and Liam’s bullshit and of living the way they do, and Harry is going to up and leave for good. I know him.”

“I hope you’re right, Lou. I never thought I’d see the day where Harry would give up on school just like that, but the other day, I saw him at the Registrar’s office when he was withdrawing for the semester. Apparently, mid-terms didn’t go the way he’d hoped.”

“Withdrawing?”

Greg stepped into the den of the home that he shared with three of his fraternity brothers where Niall and Louis had taken to do their work, “All right! Three Cokes on their way!”

“Why would he be withdrawing from school?” Louis questioned, ignoring Greg.

“You talking about your friend Harry?”

Both Niall and Louis looked to him then.

“You know, it’s probably not my business, but…hanging out with the people he’s hanging out with, I’m surprised he hasn’t just thrown in the towel on school all together.”

“What do you mean?” Louis’ brows furrowed.

“Louis, I’ve been trying to tell you, but you haven’t been listening to me,” Greg said. “Your friend is hanging with the wrong group of people.”

“Zayn and Liam?”

“Lou, it’s not really my place to say anything-”

“You’ve already started spilling, Greg, so finish,” Niall demanded.

Greg chewed at his lower lip momentarily before heaving out a sigh, “Liam Payne is, just, bad news. I know him from a few parties off-campus and I know he’s been a major supplier for a lot of them, and I’m not talking party equipment either.”

“Greg, let’s get real. Harry may have changed, but he wouldn’t hang around drug dealers,” Niall spoke.

Greg shrugged, sitting down to the table with the other two men.

“What else, Greg?” Louis asked.

Greg was hesitant to say anymore. Louis worried about Harry day and night, it’d seemed, and the last thing he wanted was to give him another reason to worry. At the same time, Greg had to wonder if arming Louis with that knowledge would help Harry.

“I…I’m pretty sure Zayn sells for him. One of my frat brothers scored some stuff from him a time or two before.”

Louis quickly stood and started to pack up his things.

“Babe, where you going?”

“I’m going to find Harry. I shouldn’t have let him go back that day, I _knew_ I shouldn’t have.”

“That should be easy,” Greg said, earning an expectant stare from Niall and Louis. “Liam’s throwing something at his brother’s warehouse, supposed to be a pretty big deal. I heard people discussing it on campus.”

“Well, why are you just fucking sitting there? Get up and take us to that party.”

“Lou, I don’t think that-”

“Get up, Niall. Greg, get your car and take us to that party. _Now_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was written by [paralleltonone](http://archiveofourown.org/users/paralleltonone/profile) | [Tumblr](http://livewhilewereforeveryoung.tumblr.com)


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